I'm Not a Child
by CaptainVal
Summary: Pavel Chekov is one of the youngest members aboard the Enterprise. However, he is skilled beyond his years, and looking for fair treatment. Is it too much to ask for respect? Acting on impulse, Chekov gets himself into more trouble than he could imagine. Will Captain Kirk have to save him, or can he finally prove himself as a true soldier? *Based after Into Darkness*
1. Chapter 1 - Sorry, kiddo

**Author's Note: **

**Before we begin, I would just like to point out that, yes, there are probably plenty of stories like this out there. But we decided to do our own take on Chekov, and thus, the story that has presented itself before you. It may not be the most original thing in the world, but here it is. This is a collaboration with with Marcelle Dupont. Enjoy**!

"How are we lookin' down there, Scotty?"

"She's as ready as she'll ever be, Captain!"

"Excellent."

Captain James Tiberius Kirk swiveled slightly in his prized captain's chair, turning to face his Vulcan first officer, who was seated at his post with an expression of utmost concentration on his face. Kirk, noticing this, of course had no other desire but to disrupt him. It was his personal habit to annoy his crew whenever he could, and it was a skill he had honed and refined to the point where he was now quite proud of it. And Spock, being who he was, was one of the Captain's favorite victims.

"Spock! You hear that?" Kirk said loudly, although his first officer was seated only a few feet away. Annoyance flashed on the Vulcan's face for the briefest of moments before he glanced back at Kirk, obviously slightly peeved at the grin plastered on the man's face.

"What is it exactly that you are presuming I have heard, Captain?" he replied almost blandly, as per usual. The crew's generally cheerful morale seemed to have no effect on him, but then it usually took something very extreme for Spock to even show the slightest emotion.

"Looks like we're ready to ship out! I assume you're prepared as ever, are you not?" Kirk inquired, although he already knew the answer. For Spock to not be prepared was like Scotty not being Scottish - it was simply not possible. Kirk was so confident in his first officer's unvarying ways that he turned away from him without an answer, instead focusing in on the helm.

"Mr. Sulu... are we all set to warp? Everything in order? External inertial dampeners engaged?" He couldn't resist poking fun at the man about the embarrassing blunder made on the pilot's first day on the job, as he knew that any efforts to live it down would all be in vain. Although Kirk hadn't been there himself to witness it, he had heard about it through the ships' grapevine and that was just as good as actually being there.

"Um... yes, Captain. Of course," Sulu answered, his mouth set into a small grimace. He was obviously choosing to ignore Kirk's little jab at his pride, but he still reacted in the slightest - as was to be expected. No one can be picked on by the Captain and not want to just turn around and put him into his place. Sulu, though, endured it all with his usually calm persona and unwavering loyalty. Although, as most of those on board had seen, the Asian pilot could be quite intimidating if he needed to be. He wasn't afraid to "play some hard ball", as Bones might put it. Perhaps he had developed this quality from the example of Kirk, who had already moved on, twisting slightly in his chair to face the boy seated next to Sulu.

"Mr. Chekov, I expect everything is shipshape with you, too, am I right?" he addressed the eighteen-year-old prodigy, who smiled back in return.

"Yes, Keptin, everything is in order," Chekov confirmed, punching a few commands into the screen at his station.

"Good. Hopefully you're a little better at the helm than you are down in engineering, huh?" Kirk joked lightly, but the way the ensign's brows furrowed told him that his words were taken to heart.

"I am sorry, Keptin, but I must mention zat what happened when I was in engineering was not my fault-" Chekov began, looking flustered but coming to an abrupt stop as Kirk began to laugh.

"Relax, kid, I was just messing with you. You were fine down there...you saved me and Scotty's lives, remember?" He tried to smooth things over, not wanting to upset his youngest crew member. Pavel Chekov had contributed to the current success of the Enterprise several times, that success mainly being that the ship was still in one piece. Kirk was honestly impressed with the kid; his mathematical abilities were unmatched by anyone else on board, and he was just as determined to serve as the rest of them. However, he was still just a young boy; eighteen was cutting it a bit close.

The older man thought back to the days of his own youth. When he was eighteen, he shouldn't have been allowed drive, let alone handle large Starfleet property such as the U.S.S. Enterprise. In high school, his life had mostly consisted of girls, fast cars, parties, and drinking. Pavel, on the other hand, seemed to have it together. His mind was more career driven and focused on his future than Kirk's had been at that point. He had been just a fly-off-the-handle "townie" farm boy when he was eighteen -while Chekov had already developed a reputation as the Russian Whiz-Kid at an even earlier age. The kid had the "annoyingly smart" qualities of_ some_ Vulcans familiar to Kirk, while still suffering from the teenage hormones of a regular human boy going through the rough transition from boyhood to manhood.

In a way, Kirk pitied him. Pavel had so much more pressure put on him during the most pivotal years of his life, sometimes having to perform in a way that could make or break the mission at hand. However, Chekov had proved on every occasion that he was up to the responsibility, such as when Kirk and Sulu had been plummeting to their death on Vulcan, or when he had been put in charge of the Engineering Department in Scotty's place. He was such a nice kid, too - a bright smile ever present on his face, always eager to please. Kirk almost envied Chekov; why couldn't he have been that kind of kid himself?

The captain suddenly turned away from the boy, his mind having reached the point where he knew it had wandered too far. The mission they had been given that day was vastly important, and Kirk couldn't afford to waste time analyzing the young navigator if he wanted to continue to be his usually successful self. He quickly pressed a button on his chair (gosh, he loved that chair) that enabled a ship wide broadcast, allowing his voice to be projected across all decks of the Enterprise.

"Hello, everyone, this your captain speaking. Now, as I'm sure you all know, our mission today was sent to us directly from the top of the Starfleet food chain, so it must be treated with the utmost seriousness," He paused, as he knew most of his crew would be taking a moment to laugh at the fact that the word _"serious"_ had just been spoken by their captain, who was definitely not known for being a serious man. "It seems as though a currently unidentified Class M planet in the Vulcan system has been acting hostile towards other Federation ships passing by. It is our job to get to the planet, find out what's there, and see if we can strike up some sort of peace negotiations. A small landing party will be sent out initially, but others should be standing by, especially in medbay, in case something goes wrong. Kirk out." He looked towards Sulu, who nodded obediently and deported from the space dock, sending them speeding into warp.

"Captain, do you have even the slightest indication of what could be waiting for us on that planet?" Spock inquired, standing beside Kirk with his hands folded neatly behind his back. Kirk spun his chair to face him, a small smile playing on his face.

"Not a clue," he stated simply, before rising and clapping a hand on the Vulcans' shoulder. "That's why you and I are going to find out. And we'll take Uhura along...I bet you'll like that, huh?" His grin grew larger at the sight of Spock's slightly flustered face at the mention of his girlfriend, although it was unofficial and no one ever used that term on board.

"My own pleasure regarding the fact that Lieutenant Uhura will accompany us to the planet is irrelevant, and I request that you leave my happiness out of the question when making these decisions, Captain," he retorted in what he most likely thought was a snide manner, but it merely drew a laugh out of Kirk.

"Whatever you say, buddy," he chuckled. He scanned the bridge, taking in the smirks and grins on the crew's faces before heading towards the lift. He and Spock had almost made it there before a voice, a bit tentative and decidedly Russian stopped him.

"Um... Keptin Kirk... Mister Spock, sir... I was just wondering if-if maybe..." Pavel attempted to get out, something about his question seeming to make it difficult for him to speak properly.

"What is it, Chekov? Come on, spit it out," Kirk encouraged, the knowledge that he was somewhat pressed for time at the moment made evident by the hint of impatience in his voice.

"Well, sir, I wanted to know if perhaps I could come with you and Mister Spock on ze expedition... I have never been on one before, and I would like ze experience," the boy finally managed to say, looking at the captain with hopeful eyes from his place at the helm. Kirk simply faced him for a moment, working out how to handle the situation in his mind. He could see from the boy's face that he very much wanted to come along with them, and Kirk hated to be the one who would have to tell him no.

Chekov was right, of course - he would need the experience if he ever wanted to move up in rank on the ship and join them on future missions. That being said, however, he was still only eighteen, barely of legal adult age. Kirk knew how capable Pavel was, he had shown this on many occasions, but that was still aboard the relative safety of the ship. The captain and first officer themselves didn't even know what exactly was on the planet below them, but so far it hadn't proved to be friendly. How could he lead his crew into danger like that, especially his youngest and most vulnerable member? Spock was one thing. He always insisted on joining Kirk on these types of missions, so he automatically included him because he couldn't think of doing otherwise unless under extreme circumstances. Uhura usually came along as well, to assist with any types of communications. But Pavel was different - he was youthful, easily excited, and obviously eager to prove himself even more than he already had. There would be no telling what could happen down there, and Kirk wasn't sure if Chekov would be ready to give his life or do something equally dangerous for them if it came down to it. And honestly, Kirk didn't want to put him in a situation like that, he was still too young. So, as much as it pained him, Kirk knew he had to let the kid down easy. Spock, however, began to speak before he had figured out just how to do it.

"You are a navigator, Mister Chekov, and a newer crew member at that. It would be highly illogical for you to be coming on an expedition. We need you aboard the ship, in your place at the helm." Pavel's face fell, his smile wiped from his place, yet Spock took no notice. "Besides the fact that you, Mister Chekov, are-"

Kirk put a firm hand on Spock's shoulder to stop him. The first mate looked miffed, and mildly confused, but did nothing to question it. "What my entirely too Vulcan friend is trying to say here," The captain interjected, his words slow as he tried to work out exactly what to tell his navigator. "Is that we need you at the helm on call, for..." He looked about, trying to think of something for the kid to do. "Feeding us any alerts and directional information, over the con."

"With all due respect, Captain, this is not crewman Chekov's job," Spock pointed out, causing Kirk to shut his eyes in frustration, knowing that his first mate was going to crush Pavel's hopes right then and there, and do it bluntly. "We could use a navigator on hand for scouting out the terrain of an unfamiliar planet. In fact, this would be a rather logical course of action. However, we do not need an inexperienced student with us, as I calculate that it will slow us down exponentially."

"Excuse me-" Chekov, his cheeks burning red, felt the eyes of every crew member in the helm. "Mister Spock, sir, I am no longer a student, and as for my experience-"

Spock, who hated to be cut off, but couldn't help stopping him, had to interrupt. "Mister Chekov, you are still not at the same level as many other members aboard this ship. Your age and place in rank makes it difficult for us to choose you over someone who may have more experience, as you humans would put it, 'under their belt.'" He worded the idiom with a slightly disgusted face. How he hated to dumb things down with odd phrases like that.

"Sir, are you...are you calling me a child?" Chekov was indignant, trying to stand taller, though his small stature couldn't be helping much. "My age has not much to do with my level of competence." He said, his voice laden with accent, his anger confusing his English a bit.

"I am merely pointing out that at your youthful age-"

"Spock," a new voice, feminine and stern, added into the mix. She stood at attention next to her rumored love interest, refraining from putting a hand on his other shoulder. "Stop. You are not helping anything by demeaning him like that! You know Chekov is just as capable as anyone else on this ship, you have no right to tell him otherwise." Her words, though calm, were meant to strike the Vulcan as a powerful force to reckon with. Spock, hiding his annoyance with the whole situation, simply nodded in response.

"Keptin?" Pavel, his voice a bit smaller now, stared towards his Captain with faithful eyes. He expected Kirk to stand by what Uhura had said - he had protected him earlier. It was Spock who made his hands curl into fists, but Chekov would not start an argument with him. He was holding onto the hope of his captain overlooking his age, seeing the man he was inside. Age was but a number, he had heard said plenty a time.

"Look, Pavel," Kirk started off slowly, and Chekov knew from his reluctant tone that this was it. "I know that you feel prepared, but scouting expeditions are tricky." He sent a searing gaze towards his first mate. "Though he worded it terribly, Mister Spock is mostly correct. You'd need more experience before we could take you into the field. I'm sorry, kid," He put a heavy hand against Chekov's shoulder, and the boy almost staggered by the weight.

"But, Keptin!" he called, as Kirk turned to walk away, Spock and Uhura flanking him. "How do I get experience if you won't allow me to join you?" he cried almost desperately, watching as his authority figures, people he had looked up to, began to fade into the distance down the corridor. "I'm not a child!" He frowned at the floor, knowing no one was listening. Everyone went back to their jobs, and ignored the "kid" who was still standing on the bridge, hating his life.

**A link to my writer friend's Figment - figment users/ 238429- Marcelle- Dupont **

**Marcelle is quite the writer (: **


	2. Chapter 2 - Energize

Pavel Andreivich Chekov had never been humiliated to that degree before in his entire life. Spock had just written him off as an inexperienced kid in front of the entire Enterprise bridge crew, those who he had considered his family. He had always thought they held him in high regard-or, they had never let on to anything otherwise. So then why had none of them defended him? Uhura was the only one who bothered to even try to stop Spock in his unjust characterization, but then, Uhura always looked out for him. No one else, not even Hikaru, had tried to stick up for him. Why was it that when he needed someone most, they were never there for him? His father, his brother, now not even his best friend cared about him. What was he even doing in Starfleet? What was the point anymore?

Chekov's foot met the wall before his was even aware, and he fell back onto his bed in both pain and frustration. Tears were leaking out of his eyes, and he cursed himself for it. As childish as it felt, he couldn't help but think that this was unfair. He was required to have experience, but no one wanted to be saddled with him, to take him out to achieve said experience. How could he get anywhere if no one would allow him to? He winced, rubbing the toes that had hit the wall. That was going to bruise, he bet. The tears in his eyes were drying, leaving sticky trails of their wake upon his face.

He stood, going to the mirror quickly. He appraised his appearance, turning his head in different directions to see it from each perspective. He had grown older, he thought. His face was not so chubby anymore, like a child's. Now he had grown into his angular bones and large eyes. How could Spock see a young kid when he looked down at him? Just because he didn't have prematurely forming wrinkles didn't mean he was some sort of juvenile! But how could he get anyone to see that? There had to be some way to prove himself, to show them that he wasn't as inexperienced as they all claimed him to be.

The idea came to him in a rush, and it seemed crazy at first. There was no way he'd be able to pull it off. They would catch him before he even got to the transporter room, and it would be done. He'd lose the last shred of respect he still had aboard the ship. It would be stupid to even try... or was it? If he could actually succeed in this foolish, desperate scheme, it might show the rest of them that he was more than just the kid, more than just the "baby" of the ship. It might even show Spock that he was wrong, and that in itself was more motivation than Pavel needed. To see the look on that stuck-up Vulcan's face when he realized that Chekov was much more than he gave him credit for filled him with ambition, and it was then that he knew he had to go through with his plan. If this didn't prove that he deserved to held to the Enterprise's prestigious level, then nothing in this galaxy or any other would.

Pavel sprang from his bed with renewed vigor, grabbing a phaser gun from his bedside counter. It had been damaged by another crewmember, who had left Chekov in charge of repairing it. He had done so, the gun being fully operational now, but Pavel had never gotten the chance to return it to him. Now he regarded this as pure luck, and tucked the gun into his belt, pulling his shirt down over it in an attempt to conceal it. The door to his compartment slid open and shut as he exited, and his next step was to make sure no one else could get in. He punched in a code at the lock screen beside the door, setting up a temporary lock, so that the door would not open for anyone else once he was gone. He wasn't sure if anyone else on board had discovered how to do this yet, and he hadn't told anyone - such were the advantages of being a prodigy.

He knew that this sort of thing could get him a suspension from Starfleet. The logical side of him was crying on the inside, and it took everything he had not to turn back and go to bed. Being a member of Starfleet meant the world to him - but being cast aside and regarded as nothing more than a child was not what he pictured himself as when he was aboard the Enterprise. Kirk himself had done a few rebellious things, like hacking the Kobayashi Maru test, and yet he had earned his place as Captain. Chekov knew that his chances were slim, but this was a now or never sort of thing. Either they would be forced to recognize him as a full member of the crew, or he would sit back and let them ridicule him. If he spent another year aboard the ship being treated like a child, he would eventually resign - and he didn't want to do that. All he wanted was a little bit of respect, and he knew that wasn't so hard to ask for.

Heading on his way to the transporter room, he thought over all that he would need. He didn't know much about this planet they were approaching. The only thing he was sure of was that it was a Class M planet acting hostile towards the Federation. They'd handled negotiations like this plenty of times before. He'd witnessed quite a few, overhearing everything from the bridge. Stopping at a computer, he tapped at the screen until it brought up their current position and information of the planet. It was mainly a small planet, covered in some sort of forestation from what Pavel could see. The inhabitants must live somewhere underground, or perhaps their position on the planet did not register on the thermal map. He couldn't see any sign of life at all. Perhaps this was just a group or someone working alone who had found the planet, taken over, and looked for some sort of trouble to start with Starfleet. Either way, Pavel knew he couldn't bring too much with him. It would look too suspicious to anyone he might pass onboard the Enterprise, and it wouldn't look too good on the planet, either. These were peace negotiations he was trying to establish, and bringing some sort of plethora of weapons would not help at all in his efforts to do so.

Deciding the phaser would be all that he could afford to take with him, he continued down the hallway, which was unusually empty. Pavel regarded this as a gift, of course-the less people he saw, the less questions he would have to answer, and the less lies he would have to tell. No one could know that he was doing this, as they would just stop him. They would tell him it was too dangerous, that he wasn't ready. Pavel knew he was ready, and he didn't need anyone to tell him what he could and couldn't do. The lack of company in the hallway had caused him to let his guard down for a moment, and he therefore jumped in surprised as he got to the transporter room only to find Montgomery Scott sitting at the controls.

"Oi! Chekov, lad, what are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be up at the bridge?" he questioned as he saw him, smiling but looking slightly confused. Chekov grinned instinctively in return, frantically thinking up a scenario in his mind before finally settling one that was actually believable. He hated to think that he was about to lie to the man who he considered a mentor, but he knew it was necessary to be able to beam down.

"Aye, yes, sir. Actually, I was just looking for you. I already looked in engineering, and you were not zere, so I was checking other places on ze ship. Keptin Kirk wanted me to give you a message," he explained, hoping Scotty wouldn't catch the nervous tone in his voice.

"And what would that be?" the elder man turned in his chair to face the boy, sounding curious. "Why wouldn't he just use the ship communicators?"

"I don't know, sir, he wouldn't tell me and I didn't want to question orders," Chekov shrugged, trying to seem casual and yet just as confused as Scotty looked. "But he said to tell you that he needs to see you in medbay right away."

"Medbay? I think Kirk's finally on his rocker! Must still be that radiation," Scotty joked. "Did he say what for?"

"I zink he wants to tell you something about ze mission... he, Mister Spock, and Miss Uhura are being looked over before zey are beamed down and I guess he couldn't wait!" Chekov smiled wider at Kirk's supposed impatience. "But if you don't mind my asking, Mister Scott, what were you doing here?"

"Ah, lad, I was just tinkering with the transporters. I heard about what happened with Spock's mother, so I was trying to see if there was anything I could do to make them more efficient and... I don't know," Scotty admitted, glancing down at the control panel and taking off the eyepiece he had been wearing. Chekov felt frozen in place at his words. He hadn't thought about the events surrounding the destruction of Vulcan for a long time, it was too painful. For a moment, he let his mind wander. Was that perhaps part of the reason Spock held such a grudge against him? Did he think of him as too much of a child to handle transporting? He couldn't help it, he had just lost her, she had moved - but he still felt responsible. It was almost like he'd killed her himself, instead of Nero. Scotty's face fell, seeming to notice the change in the boy's attitude.

"Chekov? Pavel? Are you alright?" he asked, concern more than evident in his voice. Pavel shook his head at the sound, trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand.

"Um, yes, sir, it is nothing. Just tired, excuse me." He apologized, snapping himself out of it.

Scotty looked sympathetic. "Long day in the bridge, ay? Captain seems very relaxed, but I bet that pointy eared one runs ya down." He laughed, referencing Spock. They had never seemed to have an issue, the engineer and the first officer, but no one could help getting a little jab in when time called for it. The Vulcan was definitely an annoying person, from the crew's perspective, but not unbearable.

"Yes, ze Keptin is always kind." Chekov nodded in agreement, slightly distracted as he looked at the controls of the transporter. Nothing had changed since he had last been there, but he became slightly concerned. He thought back to the incident on Vulcan, and he sighed.

"Right, well," Scotty shrugged, noting the boy's disturbance but not commenting. "I'll be off then, laddy. Thank ya for telling me." He clapped the boy on the back and maneuvered around him, the doors of the transporter room swishing shut. Chekov watched him go before turning back to the transporting platforms. Now that he was actually here, the prospect of what he was about to do seemed more daunting than it had back in his room. He was about to beam down onto a planet that had who-knows-what there with nothing but a phaser for protection. The thought of what could happen to him if he wasn't careful was almost enough to send Pavel back to his room and forget the whole thing, but he knew he had to go through with his plan. It was the only way to get the respect he knew he deserved-he couldn't go back to the bridge with the knowledge that he let his chance pass him by. So, with the thought of proving them wrong as his motivation, Pavel stepped onto the platform and spoke one word.

"Energize."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Start of Something

Captain James Tiberius Kirk was what you might call a tough guy, rough around the edges, but it still killed him to turn down Chekov. The little guy was a charming gentleman, and had some sort of adorable quality, much like a Tribble. Like those fluffy little creatures, Chekov would have been fun on an adventure, but had too many risks. At least with Pavel, they wouldn't have to worry about randomly reproducing spawn, but there were other reasons for the Captain to be concerned with his group's safety during an exploration of an unknown planet. He just hoped Pavel understood those reasons, and why he had to chosen for him to stay. He wouldn't want to come back to an angry, upset, or - heaven forbid - vengeful Russian crewmember. He loved the boy like he loved all of his crew-as if they were the family he never really had. Hurting one of them was something he tried to avoid at all costs, but sometimes it had to be done for their own safety. He would try to explain this all to Pavel when they came back, but right now they had to focus on the mission.

The captain, his first officer, and their linguist had all packed previously, and were planning to simply head back to their quarters, pick up their gear, and go straight to transportation. However, on the walk to the transportation deck, Kirk had realized he had forgotten his gun. Though he did have a back up, and a few knives on hand, he was berated by his first officer for being unprepared. According to Spock, he couldn't rely on "poor hand-to-hand combat fighting" for the rest of his life. Spock insisted he take along his phaser, which he had left on the bridge, and they went back for it as a group.

"So my hand-to-hand combat is really that awful?" Kirk protested as the trio re-entered the bridge.

"While it would be sufficient enough in a fight, it cannot be said that you have quite mastered the art," Spock insisted calmly. "I do vaguely remember Captain Pike telling a story of you being viciously beat in a bar after promoting your fighting as better than it was."

Uhura raised her eyebrows, putting a hand on Spock's arm. That was a sensitive subject, as it dealt with a period in which Kirk's pride was damaged, and Kirk enjoyed pretending that those times never existed. Her exploring eyes noted the way the captain's gaze wavered, his eyes watering in the slightest. She had almost forgotten - Pike. Her heart went out for the man, who had never revealed any other points of weakness. After his former Captain and mentor had died, Kirk had shown no signs that he had truly moved on. His body tensed and Uhura sighed, Spock's inquisitive eyes flashing with interest for a moment. She had no clue if he even realized that bringing up Pike was a bit taboo at the moment.

Kirk, always a trooper, just cleared his throat. Something told her that he was struggling to keep himself from becoming emotionally compromised. "That was awhile ago, Spock," he said, his voice light. "I've learned by now."

"Still haven't learned not to misplace your gun." Uhura chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled softly, and she beamed at him, proud that he hadn't gotten frustrated with Spock. He turned to grab his gun, which was waiting in Sulu's hands. That man was always prepared to help his Captain, which was good. Falling from the sky and almost dying on the first day of knowing each other could do wonders for a relationship.

"Forgot this, huh?" Hikaru prompted, handing the phaser towards Kirk, who accepted it gratefully.

"Yeah, I suppose that Chekov distracted me," he admitted, a very slight smile playing on his face. Expecting his navigator to say something indignant, he looked up, searching for the boy's face. However, he spotted him no where on the bridge. Confused, he turned to Sulu, who looked back just as quizzically. "Hey... where is the kid, anyway?"

"I'm not sure, sir. He left shortly after you did and we haven't seen him since," Sulu replied, a hint of worry in his voice. He and Pavel were the best of friends, practically brothers, the result of countless hours of working at the helm together. The latter being younger by a few years, Hikaru couldn't help but be protective of him on occasion.

Kirk frowned, beginning to worry as well. He turned to Spock and Uhura, about to voice the question they had all been wondering: what had happened? That was when Scotty came bounding in, a similarly confused expression upon his typically jovial face. The five crewmates looked at each other for a moment, until Scotty, twitching with excitement, was about to burst with whatever he had to say.

"You wanted to see me, Captain? I came as fast as I could, but the lad told me you all were in medbay!" He glanced around the bridge, his expression sobering when he mentally compared them to everyone else's. "What's going on in here?"

"Who...who told you we were in medbay?" Kirk asked somewhat hesitantly. An idea was forming in his head, a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to believe. The boy was usually so level headed, so rational...there was no way he could have done what Kirk's mind was suggesting.

"That would be Chekov, sir...found me in the transporter room, said you had a message for me," Scotty said by way of explanation, and Kirk quickly grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Did you see where he went after that?" he asked urgently, the suspicion turning more into reality now than he liked.

"No, uh, I left before the lad did... I think he might have stayed there, though, didn't hear him come out after me. Is that bad?" Scotty tilted his head, obviously confused. Kirk let go of the engineer, shaking his head in frustration.

"Kirk," Uhura said softly, and he turned quickly to look at her. She stood behind the captain's chair, but came down to stand beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "I can tell what you're thinking, but he's fine. You have to believe he's fine. Maybe he went back to his room."

"Yes, it would be not be logical to jump to the worst possible scenario when we have not yet proven any other options to be untrue," Spock chimed in agreement.

"Right, you're right," Kirk sighed, still flustered but trying to control himself. "I'll go check his room."

"I'll come with you," Sulu spoke up, rising from his spot at the helm. Kirk turned to look at him, but merely nodded in response.

The two men left the bridge and walked briskly down the hallways, neither of them saying a word. There was too much on Kirk's mind for him to speak anyway-if Pavel had put himself in danger because of what Kirk had done, he would never be able to forgive himself.

The boy's room was not too far from the bridge, only a few hallways away in the sleeping quarters. They didn't have to open the door to know he wasn't there. Not only did the computer outside his door announce that there was no one inside, but the lack of sound was disturbing. Chekov always had one noise or another in his room. Music, the sound of typing, bouncing a ball against the ceiling - he couldn't stand silence, as Sulu knew. He sighed, and watched the Captain for any signs of was one of the many admirable things about Kirk: he could keep his head in situations like this, or at least act as though he had it together even if he didn't for the sake of everyone else. Sulu wish he could be more like that, instead of becoming flustered as he always did under pressure. He would never willingly show this side of himself, but even something small like forgetting the external inertial dampeners ignited a small anger inside of him. Hikaru may have been a bit of a perfectionist, but he was also fiercely loyal. That was why leaving Spock behind in that volcano had been one of the hardest decisions of his life, and why he was so concerned for Pavel now.

"He's not in there," Kirk eventually voiced what they both were thinking. "He's not in there, Sulu, where else could he be?" The two men stared at each other for a moment before Kirk rushed down the hall, Sulu on his heels. They stopped at a bulky screen on the side of the hallway, mounted into the wall.

"Computer, locate crewmember Chekov!" Kirk shouted at the screen, which showed a detailed, 3-D diagram of the ship from all angles as it took a moment to process the Captain's order. He and Sulu stared at it, the atmosphere between them tense.

"Crewmember Chekov cannot be located," the computer finally informed them, cold and indifferent as always. Kirk's heart plummeted, knowing what this meant. Pavel had gone down to the planet to work out the peace negotiations himself, and Kirk was confident that he knew why. He and Spock had basically called him a child in front of everyone, and it must have finally gotten to the boy. He must have seen this as a way to prove himself.

"No," Kirk said softly, turning to look at Sulu, seeing desperation in his eyes.

"He went down there," the Asian man murmured. "Kirk, we've got to get him back before-"

"I know," the captain cut him off, taking off down the hallway again and back towards the bridge. Sulu rushed after him, and they burst into the room at the same time, trying to catch their breath.

"Well, was-" Scotty began before being interrupted by Kirk.

"He's gone. He went down onto the planet," he explained simply, catching each of them in the eye. Uhura gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, and Scotty gaped in astonishment. Spock merely stayed stock still, raising an eyebrow as though he was simply fascinated by the situation.

"Now why would he do that?" Scotty suddenly broke the heavy silence. "Didn't seem like he was going to do anything like that when I saw him... oh, wait a minute." Something seemed to have dawned on him, his mouth set in an "o" of surprise. "He was trying to get me out of the room so he could beam down, wasn't he? Oh, this is all my fault! I should have seen it coming...he was acting different, now that I think of it!"

"No, it's ours...we didn't let him come with us on the expedition, we called him a child, we dragged his pride through the mud...ugh, no wonder he left!" Kirk seethed in self-loathing, slamming himself down into his chair.

"Captain, it is unwise to distract yourself with pity at a moment like this. It is vital that we focus entirely on the situation at hand," Spock advised, sitting back at his station, Uhura taking her place next to him.

"I know, Spock. Let me think," Kirk sighed almost wearily. "Uhura, we can beam him back, right?"

"Hold on, sir, I have to check," the lieutenant said, punching commands into her screen. After a moment, she turned back around to face him, and he could see the gleam of tears in her eyes. "Captain, transports are down. Something is blocking our signal, I'm not sure what it is. We can't get him back." Her voice broke on the last sentence, and a sudden wave of despair almost overwhelmed Kirk. The youngest member of the Enterprise, the baby of the ship... stranded by himself on a hostile planet. The odds were definitely stacked against him. And what really tore up Kirk inside was that here he was, sitting in perhaps the most advanced and powerful starship of it's time...and he could do nothing to help. Not with the transporters down, anyway. There was only one thing he could do in a situation like this, and he wasn't even sure if it would even work.

"Are communications still intact?" He inquired of Uhura, whose rapid typing on her screen told him that she was trying her best to find out.

"Chekov doesn't appear to be wearing any kind of communication device on him... we have no method of contact," she informed him, and Kirk could hear the strain of her voice from trying to banish emotion. She had really been hanging around with Spock too much lately. He didn't blame her for wanting to keep herself in check, though. His own emotions were on the verge of being compromised, and he knew he couldn't let that happen, not if he wanted any hope at all of getting Pavel back. It was Kirk's actions that had driven their ensign away, and now it was their captain who was responsible for his safe return.

"Captain, we're being hailed!" Uhura alerted them suddenly, and every pair of eyes in the room shot straight up at the screen.


	4. Chapter 4 - Diamond Ladies, Silver Shoes

"Energize." He had said it with the confidence of a brave and bold man. However, the second that the tingling sensation of being beamed down to the planet surface wore off, he was snapped back into reality, to his true, rational self. What was he even doing here? He was a child prodigy, a brain genius, not a man of brawn and build. He'd never had cause to use his phaser before, so who was to say he could use it now? Grunting, he attempted to move his legs, still numb from the travel, and found his Starfleet issued black shoes covered in some sort of thick, red mud. Or, not so much mud as soil, damp from a morning rain, the trees still drizzling water droplets off of their leaves.

Looking up, Chekov's pale face was met with a fat water droplet, which plopped down against his forehead. Rolling slowly down the side of his nose and off of his face, Chekov left the water be. He wasn't going to worry about a little bit of precipitation. He tried to think of what Captain Kirk would do, and he knew for sure that their fearless ship's leader would never have a problem with a little bit of rain. Besides, he reasoned with himself, water was used to cleanse the body and soul. Could it really be that harmful to wander around in a bit of a morning dampness?

It did seem to be morning upon this strange earth, but Chekov wasn't entirely sure. The sky was a milky grey color, dark clouds rolling above him. They seemed so close that he could touch them if he climbed one of the trees surrounding him. That was all the planet seemed to be - vegetation. Dark green trees grew from the ground, with coiling and twisting trunks that stretched endlessly to the sky. When Pavel was a boy, he had spent his days climbing towers and buildings in his city, rock climbing when he could. How he had wished for trees to scramble up, with thick trunks and sturdy branches like these! He slapped his palm against a nearby one, somehow amused by how hollow it sounded. There was a thick moss growing upon it, plushy and spongy. When Pavel drew his hand away, he noted that it smelled like some sort of strange mixture of peppermint and cinnamon, which was not at all unpleasant.

The young member of Starfleet took a few tentative steps, noting how his feet sunk a little lower with every footfall. The red soil felt exceedingly healthy, and full of something. It was like a mixture of seeds and mulch, with maroon wood chips mixed in. Chekov actually began to warm up to this new planet. Everything was very cushioned and soft, touchable. He felt as though no harm would come to him. As a few more water droplets fell upon his face, he smiled towards the sky. Though there was a lack of sun, there was still an ever-present brightness to it all. It was a wonderful day, he felt. He began to question Kirk and Spock's decision even more-what was so dangerous about this planet, whose atmosphere was so calm, inviting even? His cares seemed to wash away with the rain, and it took a great deal of effort to remind himself that he was here on actual Starfleet business.

Wandering, he noticed that there wasn't much action. When he was a child he did grow up in a place mostly void of vegetation and such. However, he'd taken trips to see such places, and he knew that there should be animals. There should be some sort of sound, any place in the area. The scuttle of a chipmunk or other small creature shuffling through the wood chips and leaves on the ground. Perhaps the call of a bird high in a tree, or even just wind rustling through the branches. Even with the strange, rainy weather, there was absolutely nothing. His shoes sinking into the moist soil made hardly a squeak with every step. He couldn't fathom it.

At first, the silence was comfortable. It gave him the room in his mind to think. Though he had always been a musical man, he realized the quiet was good for him. As he walked, in no general direction but forward, his thoughts wandered to the ship he had left behind. His first day in Starfleet Academy had been eventful, one he'd never forget. He remembered seeing Spock and James Kirk and Nyota Uhura, wandering around campus. He'd spotted Leonard McCoy even, boozing on the front steps of his dorm, still mulling over that ex-wife of his with a drink. That was before everyone started calling him Bones. It was even before Chekov really knew anyone. There had been a time when he was a little bit of a loner, with no one to talk to but his friendly dorm mate, Hikaru Sulu. However, even then communication between them was difficult. He could barely speak English in a way that was understandable. He was quite used to living with people who knew Russian, or could understand his thick accent. Going to Starfleet was definitely a challenge, but he learned to accept and enjoy it. Learning was always his area of expertise. He constantly wanted to know new things, to discover and experiment, to find out just what this world and all the rest of them had to offer.

As he stumbled along, the silence became a bit louder. White noise was buzzing in his ear in an incredibly distracting manner, and he slowly realized that he had no clue where he was going. The forest felt like a movie screen stuck on repeat, the same trees passing by him every moment or so. Even though he knew he had to be getting somewhere, he felt like there was no where to go at the same time. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, and no way out of these damn trees. He closed his eyes, running his right hand along the line of tree trunks to guide him as he walked, trying to think around the sounds his mind was creating. The crinkling sounds of white noise were getting to him in a way he couldn't even explain. He let his mind wander again in an attempt to distract himself, and inexplicably thought of his mother.

This was a relatively touchy subject for Pavel, but he embraced the thought this time, rather than shoving it to the side as he usually did. His widow mother, contrary to what he had led people to believe, was not at all the kind of mother one would read of in storybooks or see on television shows. No, those mothers were what Pavel had called "diamond ladies" as a child. They gleamed and sparkled and radiated kindness to everyone and everything, offering advice and guidance and support in whatever their children or anyone else in the lives had wanted to do. Those were the kind of mothers he saw everyday, not just in the media but around his neighborhood as well. The area where Pavel lived had diamond ladies everywhere, but not one of them had ever picked up on how much the boy had respected them. They never really picked up Pavel's very existence to begin with. At first it had bothered him, but as he grew older he came to realize that it wasn't their fault. The diamond ladies had a lot on their minds, a lot of people to care for. Just because his own mother refused to do the same didn't mean he should try to barge in on their lives, no matter how much he wished he were a part of them.

He had never tried much to start with, but seeing the other children with their own mothers had made the boy fantasize about how different his life would be if his mother were more like them. If she would take him out for ice cream during the summer, or sled with him down the hill near their house when Russia's famous winters set in. If she would read to him at night instead of tossing him in his room, and if only she would hug him. Just once in his life he wanted his mother to hug him, to show some sort love towards him, to prove that he did actually mean something to her. He tried his hardest in school, he followed all the rules and he never once talked back to her, but still she refused to acknowledge him. And on those rare occasions where she did realize he existed, it was either to slap him for being a fool or drag his self-esteem down in different ways, verbally or otherwise. Pavel never let on to any of this, of course. He could never force himself to demean his mother, no matter how much she did the same to him-it was a matter of loyalty. Even now, during his years in Starfleet, if the subject ever came up, Chekov simply painted a picture of the mother he had always wanted-a diamond lady-and spoke about her. So far, the Enterprise crew knew only of Pavel Chekov's late, perfect mother, who had died of cancer with the pride of her son making it this far.

The part about cancer, at least, was true. It had happened a few months before the Narada incident, and he had gone back to Russia to attend the funeral. It was small, only a few family members there, but Pavel had hardly spoken to them. He focused only on his mother, noting how still she was, and how she appeared strangely.. happy. Her cold, pale face held a small smile, her corpse somewhat amused by something. He couldn't help but wonder.. was she happy that she was gone, so that she wouldn't have to deal with her "no-good wreck of a boy" anymore, or was there something else? Pavel couldn't be sure, but he personally liked to believe that maybe, just maybe...it was that something else. He had sent her a letter through Starfleet Academy's digital communication system a few weeks before her passing, telling her of all he had done, and adding lastly that he had forgiven her. He had never really been angry to begin with, but he knew he should say it just in case she didn't know, or if she actually cared. And it was along with his newfound forgiveness at that funeral that he had realized that he was living for himself now. He didn't have anyone now that he wanted to be proud of him, now that both of his parents were gone. Being an only child didn't help things any, although he had always wanted a brother. And he thought he had found siblings in Kirk and Hikaru, found a family in the rest of the Enterprise. He loved them more than anything, and he had thought they did, too. Kirk was always so kind to him, as was Hikaru, and the pranks and stories they would share had confirmed for him that having elder brothers was just as he imagined it would be. He wanted them to be proud of him, and he had always thought that they were.

But just the fact that he was here alone proved to him just how wrong he was. They had explicitly told him just what they thought of him, but Pavel did not want to dwell on their unfair opinions any longer than he had to. Instead he now concentrated on walking, and tried as hard as he could to block out the white noise, which despite his earlier efforts seemed to have doubled in volume. It made his head swarm, tangling up his once focused thought, and he had to stop and press a hand against his forehead in a vain attempt to clear it. The noise was persistent, however, and seemed very good at getting under his skin and even further and louder into his head. The next few steps he took were so jumbled and confused that he knew he couldn't keep going until the white noise had died away. He leaned against one of the many tree trunks again, agitated beyond belief. The planet's initial welcoming and inviting feel had long since evaporated, and now everything seemed to blend together even more than it had before. There was still a light drizzle in the air, but it had actually increased since Pavel had last registered it. He welcomed the rain at first, hoping it would clear his mind, but the sensation of the droplets hitting his skin made his head as foggy as the mist hanging above him. He pressed himself against the tree trunk, the notion of just how terrible an idea this had been finally dawning on him, and it felt like a punch in the stomach. Pavel winced as the white noise reached it's peak, causing him to slide down the trunk and hit the spongy ground, his head throbbing.

_Great._ He thought dismally, tightly shutting his eyes as if that would make the pain stop. _Way to go, Pavel. Look what you've gotten yourself into...they'll never believe you've grown up now, not when they find you passed out against a tree because you had a headache. Maybe they were right...maybe you are still just a kid..._ That last coherent thought passed through his head as the world began to blur around him, the trees and ground morphing into a thick wall of green and red. The soft soil was so plushy, so comfortable to rest in. He felt his eyes fluttering closed. Though half of him willed himself to stay awake, another part of him just yearned for sleep, uninterrupted and well deserved.

As his vision began to cave in, creating just a small tunnel for him to see through, he saw a pair of feet. Silver shoes, glittering with moisture from the mist, were coming towards him at a slow pace. The red ground made not a sound beneath the feet, though Chekov knew that there should be something. His ears were ringing with only white noise, his head was pounding and his thoughts were a jumbled mess of confusion. He watched the approaching stranger for as long as he could before his eyesight gave out. He was unable to hear, could not see a thing but the despairing blackness surrounding him. He was too tired to feel, to full of anguish to even think of anything more than finally sleeping, than giving up. He had failed the simplest of missions, and would just have to rest until Captain Kirk arrived to save the day. With guilt and shame tearing through his mind, he breathed in deeply and sighed, leaning forward to fall onto his stomach for a nice nap.


	5. Chapter 5 - A Message

The screen flickered to life, and a collective, horrified gasp filled the bridge.

"Chekov!" Kirk shouted at the same time Sulu yelled "Pavel!" The rest of the crew remained silent, trying to take in what they were seeing. Pavel's image from the shoulders up was being broadcasted to them, his young face terrified and slightly pained, as he was seemingly being grabbed by his hair. There was a phaser gun held at his temple, a gloved hand positioned over the trigger. Anger surged in Kirk at the sight of his surrogate little brother in what appeared to be a hostage situation, and any of his own fear was taken over by this stronger and more potent feeling.

"Keptin Kirk! Hikaru!" Pavel breathed with wide eyes, seeming almost shocked at their sudden appearance.

"Don't worry, Captain, it's still set on stun," a voice drawled from the screen, unfamiliar and definitely unfriendly. "But I suppose from this distance..." the hand prodded the side of Chekov's temple harshly, and the boy squirmed, his face screwing up in anger and frustration. "It might sting a bit more than usual."

"This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You are threatening the life of our navigational officer—this is a Federation offense of the highest degree. Identify yourself." This was not a request, but an order, and silence once again overtook the bridge as they waited for an answer.

"Yes, I do have something that belongs to you, don't I? What was he doing down here all by himself on my planet in the first place?" the voice inquired cruelly, avoiding the question by asking another in return.

"Keptin, I'm sorry, I-" Chekov started, but his words ended in a whimper as the grip on his hair seemed to tighten. The young lad seemed struck with a large amount of fear. Yet at the same time, there seemed to be some kind of an internal conflict that crossed upon his face. Kirk caught this, and was pleading with him in his mind not to do anything rash. Though Chekov was not one for acting so sudden, things had changed, and he was taking an impulsive turn for the worst. If the kid did anything disruptive to his captor, the possibility of harm befalling him would become a certainty.

"I order you to release the boy and return transportation capabilities to our ship!" Kirk yelled, rising from his chair, his anger almost too much to bear now. The imminent danger that his youngest crew member was in left him shaking in his boots - metaphorically. He couldn't show any signs of fear to this men, but something told him that he should be more than just concerned. Something strange was going on here, something wrong. The planet was supposed to be sparsely inhabited, and though there were threats, no one was supposed to ever be taken captive...he hadn't even considered the possibility. He didn't understand why or how Chekov had even gotten placed into their hands. What had happened to him down on that desolate planet?

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Captain Kirk," the voice refused, and the crew could almost hear the sneer forming on the face of whoever it was that was threatening Chekov.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Kirk retorted without a second thought as the "Alpha" bridge crew began to gather around him. He knew they would all do whatever necessary to ensure Pavel's safety, even if it meant risking their own lives the in process. Not only was he the youngest, but he was also family, and the Enterprise crew was as closely knit as any family could ever hope to be. They would do anything for each other, no matter what the cost. Kirk himself had stuck to this promise when he had braved the life-sucking radiation poisoning in the warp core chamber for them, and he was just as willing to do something equally dangerous again if it meant Chekov would be okay.

"You seem to be forgetting that I have the advantage here," The hand flexed causally over the trigger, causing Pavel's eyes to grow wider and Kirk to scowl in frustration. Whoever this guy was made a correct and vital point. They really couldn't do anything right now without risking Pavel's safety, which was of course out of the question. This only heightened Kirk's sense of helplessness, and it was not a feeling he particularly enjoyed. Phaser aside, there was no other way to reach them with anything beyond hailing. They couldn't beam down, and Chekov couldn't be beamed up. It was a rigged game, Kirk realized, and it was rigged against them.

"This was merely an introduction, Captain, I'm positive we shall have much more to discuss in the future. As for your young officer, here, he'll be staying with me for the time being. I'm sure he'll prove to be quite useful to me if he behaves," the voice said, the almost mirthful tone in his voice contrasting greatly with the situation.

"If you touch him, I swear-" Kirk couldn't finish the sentence, his anger bubbling over inside of him. Pavel smiled sadly at him, and the captain was sure the entire bridge could hear his heart breaking.

"Do not worry about me, Keptin. I will be okay...besides, it is my fault I am here in ze first place. I am not afraid of him," the boy assured him, but the slight tremble in his words told Kirk otherwise. At that moment, he couldn't have been more proud of the ensign and bravery he was showing. He nodded once, his mouth set in a firm line.

"We'll get you out of there, Chekov. I promise," Kirk tried not to betray the lingering fear he still felt in his voice. Pavel grimly returned the nod as best he could, faith gleaming in his eyes, letting them know that he trusted them wholeheartedly with his life.

"I know, Keptin. I...I am sorry," the kid said as he glanced down, shame cutting through his voice. Kirk was about to respond when the other voice suddenly interjected, after having stayed silent for a few moments.

"That was touching, my friends, it truly was. Sorry to cut the bonding moment short, but I'm afraid we must be going. It was so nice talking with you, Captain Kirk. I do hope to see you again soon."

"Trust me, you will," Kirk replied harshly, before the screen flickered back into darkness. The captain's eyes searched the rest of the crew, who looked just as determined as he felt. They would keep their promise, or die trying. This was the Enterprise, after all, and the Enterprise did not go down without a fight.


	6. Chapter 6 - A Drink

Bones liked quiet. He liked the silence of the early morning when he was the only one man enough to get out of bed and face the day. He liked the still ship hallways, when they were empty of all Starfleet members save for himself. It had a calm, serene feel to it - and you couldn't find much serenity on the Enterprise these days, especially not with Jim Kirk around. That kid had a hero complex like you wouldn't believe, rushing into the middle of anything and everything with no thought except making a show of it. Bones almost regretted taking pity on Jim and helping him get aboard the Enterprise-he might not have done it if he had known of all the antics he would have to put up with as a result. But the good Jim had done for Earth and for the rest of crew couldn't be overlooked, and Bones couldn't imagine the ship with any other captain but James T. Kirk. He knew how much everyone else on board admired him (except, perhaps for Spock) and he couldn't help but feel a small ounce of pride of having brought them all together, no matter how much Jim made Bones want to tear his hair out. There was a certain quality about him that you had to respect, part of that being how much Jim cared for his crew.

Bones knew from personal experience that there wasn't a thing in the universe that Jim wouldn't do to protect those under his command, and that led to him having spent his fair share of time in medbay, where Bones would shoot him with hypo after hypo until the kid could at least sit up by himself. After literally coming back from the dead (a feat which Bones knew he could take most of the credit for, although he supposed he was lucky the transfusion worked at all), Jim had been staying in relatively good shape, for which Bones was grateful. The only time he really came to medbay at all now was for routine check ups, as the rest of the crew did. Bones had hoped that this state of peace would last, but he had known when Jim's voice had come over the con requesting his presence at the bridge that things were about to get complicated again. He groaned inwardly to himself before rising from his spot at his desk, where he had been trying to enjoy an uneventful day in medbay, a rare occasion that he savored whenever he had the chance. Today, however, it seemed as though the chance had passed him by.

"What is it now?" he grumbled as he walked into the bridge, and immediately regretted it. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, and even Bones, who appreciated quiet, was disturbed by the lack of noise. "Boy, what happened up here?" Jim turned in his chair to face him, and Bones was taken aback by the sheer seriousness on his face. It was an emotion their captain was not famous for, only in times of deep distress. The look told Bones all he needed to know-something had happened to one of the crew. He scanned the bridge, trying to find who or what he should be concerned about, and came up short one Russian prodigy. "Chekov-where is he?"

"He's gone, sir," Sulu murmured from his place at the helm, head down and worry written clearly across his face.

"Yeah, I can see that," Bones retorted in spite of himself and the situation, never having been one for short, obvious answers. The details: that was what mattered here. "Well, where is he?"

"Down on that planet we were supposed to visit today," Jim finally spoke up, the answer seemingly a mere distraction to his mind, as he appeared deep in thought.

"And why is that, Jim? I thought you and the hobgoblin were going there, what did you send the kid down for?" Bones asked incredulously, crossing his arms. What was going through Jim's mind on that one? Chekov was one smart kid, that was for sure, but to let him go by himself into uncharted territory? Jim's head had to be more messed up than he thought. The captain in question stared at him for a moment, and Bones could see the indignation scrawled into his features.

"You think I let him go down there? You think I told him to? No, Bones, he left because he was angry. I don't blame him, but I as sure as hell didn't order him down there," Jim spat loudly, his words firm and final. He rose from the chair, his eyes searching now for something, and his voice quieted. "And maybe I didn't send him on my orders, but I may as well have. Bones, I... well, Spock and I... Chekov asked if he could come with us while we made the negotiations, but we turned him down. We told him he was inexperienced and couldn't handle it. We called him a child, Bones, and I think that's the worst thing we could have done to him. We were just asking for this." He finally looked Bones dead in the eyes, and the doctor could see pent up guilt, frustration... and worry. "Now some sick, twisted guy has him captive, and we can't beam down and we can't beam him up. He's trapped down there... and I just don't know what to do." He paused, his brow wrinkling in frustration. He had never appeared this weak, and Bones knew that this was serious.

The silence seemed to grow even thicker at these words, which Bones didn't think he would ever hear from Kirk again. Jim always knew what to do, it was part of the reason why Starfleet made him captain. His choices, no matter how wrong or rule-violating or stupid they seemed at the time, always came through in the end, always proved to everyone just why he had earned this post. The rest of the crew seemed just as shocked by his words as Bones was, as they all stared at him, still not used to seeing their captain as defeated as he looked now, even after all they had gone through with Khan.

"Jim, I understand what you mean. But what I don't get is how Chekov managed to get down there in the first place. How could he have beamed down if you guys have no way of getting there now?" Bones pointed out, deciding to try to distract Jim from his pity party by finding out as much as he could about the situation. It honestly didn't make sense... what could have happened between when the kid had gotten down to the planet and now that disabled transports? He paced back and forth, rubbing his chin in thought.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Uhura told him from her station, and Bones was sure he wasn't imagining the tear streaks stained upon her face. "For the last half an hour, we haven't been able to get and kind of transportation working... there's something on that planet that's jamming the signal, but so far we haven't been able to detect it." She turned away from him, her eyes glancing towards Spock, and the doctor felt a quick stab of sadness on her behalf. Uhura was like a mother figure towards Chekov, and he seemed as drawn to her as if she actually had raised him. Being a father himself, Bones could relate to what she must be going through, even if Pavel wasn't her son. He was as good as one to her, from what he could see. His heart personally went out to the linguist, if only because he would hate to be in her shoes.

A loud bang sounded behind him, and the crew turned to stare with wide eyes at their captain. His fist was against the armrest of his chair, turning a dark red from having hit the metallic seat so hard. He clenched his fingers, eyes squeezed tightly and forehead creased with concern. Immediately, Bones was at his side, grabbing his hand as he raised it to strike down again. He yanked the captain's arm, prodding at the heel of his palm and the side of his hand, which were beginning to swell. "No doubt you're going to bruise," he sighed, a disapproving tone in his voice. Kirk had never been this upset, and to see him so distraught made the medbay officer sick to his stomach. Leaning in to address his friend in quiet tones, Bones knew he would have to be stern. "Get up, Jim. You're about two seconds away from being emotionally compromised. Unless you want your pointy eared first mate to replace you and screw this shit up, you had better pull yourself together, get your ass out of this chair, and let me walk you to medbay for some ice." He commanded, and the Captain just winced as his friend continued to examine the hand.

Standing, he wrenched away from him with as much composure as he could muster. "Get off of me, Bones," he instructed, his voice raw with frustration. Bones was wise enough to know that it was not anger directed towards him, per se, but more towards the situation. This was definitely a tough one to handle, considering they were coming very close to losing a vital crew member, and the captain seemed to have no plans. Kirk stretched his hand, clenching and releasing his fingers slowly. He was controlling a wince, Bones could tell - he had seen that face many times before. However, the doctor knew enough not to make a big deal out of it. In his current state, it would not be wise to create any problems with the man. He could only hope that the idiot didn't break any bones."I'm fine," he said, somehow guessing what his medbay officer was thinking. "Just a bruise, or something."

"Jim," Bones said slowly, a warning drawl to his tone. "Let me at least get some ice and a bandage on it. It looks like you've popped a blood vessel or two, and that can hurt like a mother." He tried to make it sound a little lighter, as if it wasn't a big deal, but everyone knew it was. With the crew's interested eyes watching, he put a hand on the captain's shoulder to lead him towards the doors.

"The only thing I need is a drink." Kirk spat out bitterly, holding his injured hand gingerly. Bones had to agree with that idea - it seemed as though their best thinking was with a bottle of whiskey in between them. Without further ado, Bones pushed through the doors, guiding Jim with him. Before they were closed out of the bridge, he turned to the second in command. Spock shared a cold glance, but nodded in the slightest. He hoped that the creepy Vulcan would understand that their Captain needed some time to think without any interruption. He figured putting that bastard in charge wouldn't do too much harm for the time being.

Escorting Jim down to the bar in the ship cafeteria quarters was something that Bones had done many times. Most often, he had to take the man back to his cabin and put him to bed after their drinking sessions. Though he wasn't as sloppy a drunk as he once was, Jim still enjoyed a little bit of partying on board the ship. There were quite a few young women who enjoyed his partying as well, so that was a plus for him - though Bones did not approve of his promiscuity. He was always warning him about what a danger that could be. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned, especially one aboard the Enterprise who could potentially be in control of something very important. Bones was sure there was something in Starfleet regulations about the amount a Starfleet commander could drink while aboard the ship, but he was also sure that Kirk had skipped over that section of the rule book. Besides, at a time like this, he and the captain were not partying - they were contemplating. It just happened to be that they were doing their job while drinking something that helped them to think. He was sure that no one could condemn them for something as meaningful as that.

They approached Guinan at a quick pace. In seconds, she had whipped a bottle of their finest whiskey out onto the glass bar counter, with two tumblers - each with exactly three ice cubes - next to the bottle. She knew from the look on his face that they needed their regular business drink, and left them to their thinking. Bones shot her a grateful look, and she nodded before returning to her cleaning of the bar and serving other customers. Kirk sat down on the barstool next to Bones and immediately picked up the bottle, sloshing alcohol in his glass and downing it like a shot. He seemed to perk up a great amount after that, and for that, Bones was grateful.

"Better now?" He couldn't resist asking, having not touched his own drink yet. Jim gave him the barest hint of a grin, but looked away just as quickly, staring down into the glass as if it were a crystal ball that could get them out of this mess.

"Not by a long shot," Kirk said bluntly, rolling the empty glass back and forth across the table. "I just don't know what the hell happened, Bones." he confided, pouring himself another glass full. This time, he passed the bottle to his friend, and took smaller sips of the amber liquid. The blue lighting in the bar area made the whiskey a beautiful color in the glass, the way it reflected off of the brownish of the alcohol. It could be practically mesmerizing - but something told Bones that even though Kirk was looking sadly into his glass, the color was not what was keeping his gaze. It was almost as if he were looking into it and seeing the memories of his conversations with Chekov play again. He shook his head sadly, and Bones couldn't do a thing to help the poor man.

"I don't know either, Jim." he said, frowning. "What would possess him to go down to a hostile planet? Doesn't he know how negotiations work? He's a bright boy - I can't imagine how this even happened." He seethed, pouring himself a drink and telling himself not to down it. After a long battle with alcoholism, a glassfull here and there could really mess him up. Whenever he drank with Jim, Bones had to be very careful of how much he consumed.

"Well Spock was being a prick about how he's such a young kid, and I guess I didn't do much to help anything. I just didn't think it would be a good idea to bring him down with us, man." He sighed, draining his tumbler and pouring another. Guinan gave Bones a stern look, and he knew she was disapproving of how much that Captain drank. Bones screwed the cap onto the bottle and put it closer to him, to stop him from having another drink. "I guess he felt underappreciated, or maybe he just thought he could do it himself. But the point is that he went down there, and now our communications and transports are down. We know he's being held hostage, but we don't know exactly where, we just have a general idea of what part of the planet he's on. We have no clue who's keeping him or why they even want him - I assume they have a beef with Starfleet - but right now, we're in the dark and I can't find a way out of this." Before Bones could interject, add some sort of encouragement, Kirk looked back down into his glass. "I wish I had Pike here to help me out. That man would have never let this happen on his ship." He said bitterly, and Bones knew it was hard for him to feel so out of control. But damnit, he was a doctor, not a psychiatrist - he didn't know what to say. Communication was far from his area of expertise, anyone who wanted to know that could just ask his ex-wife and his daughter. Finally, he sighed, and decided he thought too much.

"Yeah, well, this isn't his ship anymore, Jim. It's yours," he stated simply, and Jim almost seemed taken aback by his words. It may have seemed harsh, but both men knew it was the bitter truth. With this in mind, Bones plowed on, knowing it was what Kirk needed to hear. "It's yours now, and you can't go flying off the handle every time something happens. Now I know you're worried about Chekov - I am too - it's understandable. But you can't just sit here all helpless and pathetic and tell yourself there's no way out. Because I know you, Jim, and you'll find a way. Always do... it sometimes gets you killed, but it works. So sure, maybe Pike wouldn't have let this happen, but you know as well as I do that he'd hate to see you moping around drinking instead of taking action. So that's what you gonna do, Jim. You're gonna take action." The words hung in the air for a moment, Kirk staring at him, an utterly grim look never leaving his face as he set down his glass again.

"Hate to admit it, Bones, but you're right this time," he finally replied with a sigh. "I've just got to find a place to start."

"Well you've sure got a lot of angles to look at this from. Maybe you should go with the obvious-who is this guy, anyway?" Bones prompted, a scowl quickly crossing his face. Honestly, he was just as angry as Kirk was, but he was more contained about it. What kind of whack-job would threaten to kill a teenage kid, and a Starfleet officer at that? Obviously someone who was wishing for a death sentence delivered by Jim and the rest of the crew. Bones had no doubt in his mind that they would find the guy, but a small part of him hoped it wouldn't be too late when they did. If a fight with Starfleet was what the sicko was after, killing Chekov would really be all he would need to do... so why had he contacted the crew beforehand? Why hadn't he just offed the kid and then told them about it? It was always mystery after mystery aboard the Enterprise, and Bones couldn't remember all this drama as being a part of the job description. But the one thing he couldn't stand the most about the whole affair was why it had to be Chekov. The kid was like a little doe, with his blue-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look, and was as sharp as a tack. So what had been going through his head when he decided to pull this stunt? It was probably hormones; a kid Pavel's age was loaded with the overactive buggers. If Kirk and Spock had really been calling him a child, then that had to have been what sent him down there. Of course Pavel had probably seen negotiation deals before, it was a given when stationed at the bridge. And with a brain and personality like the kid had, it wouldn't be hard for him to get some kind of deal going-if the planet hadn't been inhabited by a nutcase.

Or, more than one nutcase. The problem here was that they had no clue what was going on down there. They had no information on the planet, as it was practically undiscovered. They wouldn't have known about it at all if if the planet's inhabitants hadn't started to become hostile. They were waging war against Vulcan and Starfleet personnel that happened to pass by, and that was all they knew. Why they were suddenly attacking was just another mystery. Who they were, and how they had kidnapped an officer of command so easily was also impossible to figure out. While Chekov was smart, Bones wondered if perhaps everyone had put too much responsibility on him too soon. He was foolish enough to believe he could handle negotiations on his own on an enemy planet, and then got himself caught. Though the medbay officer felt sorry for the kid, he couldn't help but begin to ask himself just what was going through that boy's mind. How could he have done this? It not only put himself in danger, but those on the crew who now had to spend time saving him.

"Couldn't tell you. We don't have any information." Kirk shook his head, downing the rest of his glass in one gulp. Though his fingers twitched, hands almost reaching for the bottle, he controlled himself. Bones slid the bottle back to Guinan, feeling no need for a drink anymore.

"Well there has to be some way we can figure it out," he insisted, drumming impatiently on the countertop. "Whatever happened to not believing in no-win scenarios? You beat the Kobayashi-Maru, for god's sake. You should be able to figure this one out. Not to downgrade it, but it's a hostage situation - something you've learned about countless times in Starfleet Academy. So use your training and fix this mess." He demanded, trying to be encouraging yet insistent. He often considered himself a kind of mentor, and now it was time to suit up and start guiding the kid.

"That was class, Bones. Not so much pressure, you know?" Jim argued, and his friend rolled his eyes. Bones couldn't believe it. Jim practically lived for those "all eyes on me" situations. Now that everyone was turned to focus on him, he was freezing up, and the medbay officer couldn't handle it.

"Were you not listening to me a minute ago? You agreed to do something about this-no wimping out now. Get up, we're going to the library," Bones ordered Jim, being the only one on board who the captain allowed to do that. He hauled the kid up out of the chair, Jim seeming a bit started but not questioning it. Ever since the day that they met on their ride to the academy, Bones was always in charge.


	7. Chapter 7 - Who Are You?

Chekov hated himself. There was a self-loathing ignited inside of him that almost drove him mad, but he forced himself to stay in control. He couldn't lose it now, not when Kirk and the rest of the Enterprise crew was coming for him. But, he consistently reminded himself, they wouldn't have to come and get you at all if you hadn't been such an idiot and thought you could handle something like this. The harsh truth that this was all his fault nagged at Pavel, refusing to leave his mind. He had plenty of time to dwell on it, of course, as he sat nearly motionless in a transparent cell. He had been unceremoniously tossed in there a few hours ago, and already the silence, much like that of the planet outside, had begun to bother him. He wasn't even sure he was on the same planet anymore. As soon as he had regained consciousness, there had been a phaser -his phaser-pointed at his head, and any thoughts of where he might be were swept from his mind as his captor had hailed the Enterprise. His ship... he'd give anything to be back on it now, even with the relentless taunting he put up with because of his age. Age. What a stupid thing to get worked up over.

Shame dug at him once again, the sting of it almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. Everyone told him he was still going through a rough stage in his life, that his hormones were still unpredictable, but he knew it was no excuse for what he had done. His rash behavior had landed himself and his family into a heap of trouble, just as Captain Kirk was known to do. NO. He reprimanded himself, narrowing his eyes at his own thoughts out of perhaps a reflex. The captain is a great man. He knows what is best... he would not have rushed off like you did just because he was offended.

Chekov cursed himself inwardly, leaning his head back against the glass wall. He could already imagine the conversation he would have to endure back on the Enterprise, and it defined the dread that he felt in the pit of his stomach. He could practically see the disapproval in Spock's face, the sadness in Uhura's small frown, and worst, the disappointment in Kirk's eyes. He had let them all down, and he knew it. They all expected him to be at their level of professionalism, to take whatever was thrown at him with the strength of the man he was supposed to be at eighteen. He was supposed to be a prodigy, and he knew that meant handling himself in a manner above what was usual at his age. Coming down to this planet had proved nothing like he had been convinced it would-all it had resulted in was a waste of time and his loss of the crew's trust. There would be no way they would let him alone again, and they probably had written him off as a delinquent or worse. Putting the crew in danger meant possible suspension - perhaps being sent back to the academy to retake all of his finals, to prove he could handle living on the Enterprise before they sent him back. He had made a huge mistake, and instead of gaining respect, he had lost it all-and that fact in itself almost made him wish the crew wouldn't find him.

The man who had taken Pavel hadn't harmed him so far, aside from holding him at phaser-point and almost yanking his hair out. Though he couldn't be sure of what happened when he had passed out, Chekov found no wounds. Other than his head pounding, and a few strands of hair missing, he was in total health. Then again, he hadn't had any food in a few hours. Sighing, he got to his shaky feet, and realized how dehydrated he was. Time seemed to pass at an unusual rate on this planet. He could only keep up with how much was passing by the different demands his body gave him. He figured it must have been at least five hours since he had been aboard the Enterprise. He had eaten dinner an hour before he left, which was probably why he was starving. Standing, he tried to square his shoulders and stride forward like a presentable Starfleet officer, but he managed to merely jolt forward and run straight into the wall of the cell. How he hated invisible cell walls and his pounding head ache.

Across the room, a man chuckled, leaning cooly against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was masked in shadows, a dark cloak pulled over his body to cover him almost entirely. In the shadow of his hood, Chekov could make out the man's twisted smirk and the glint of his chocolate eyes, but that was it. Squinting, Pavel resisted the urge to tap on the glass. That, or try to break it. All that was in his whitewash cell was a bed, which was basically a big plastic sort of box with a blanket and pillow. He knew that would be uncomfortable, but after waking up on the floor already, he knew he didn't really have much of an option. Either way, he'd be full of cramps, that was for certain.

Pavel straightened, trying to make himself seem more sophisticated, threatening, or at least taller than he actually was. He had to keep his promise to Kirk, he had to eliminate any fear that was lurking inside of him. And as much as he hated to admit it, Pavel was afraid, as much as he tried not to be. He knew full well that that this man could have killed him earlier, could still kill him now-and it would be easy. He had Pavel's phaser, and he was fully aware that there were settings worse than stun. He vaguely wondered why he was still alive, but found that he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. The fact that he hadn't been killed yet only left him with the possibility that he was being used for something, that there was a reason he was being allowed to live. The sick feeling in his stomach told him that this reason wasn't particularly one he should be thrilled about, but he managed to keep his facial expression as angry as possible as the cloaked man approached him.

"I thought you might like some company," he said lightly, but Pavel could hear the cruelty in his words.

"Not from the likes of you," he spat back, eyes narrowing as he spoke. He wasn't entirely sure how he could hear his captor so clearly through the invisible walls, but he honestly had no desire at the moment to consider it-the anger possessing him was quite distracting.

"Now now, don't be so quick to judge, Pavel," the man cooed, turning slightly on his heel. "You act as though I'm some sort of monster." He laughed, a mirthless sound, and Chekov nearly winced at it.

"You are, as far as I'm concerned," he replied firmly, although taking an involuntary step back from the glass as the man came forward. The hood still concealed most of his face, for which Pavel couldn't help but be a bit grateful for.

"I am not the one who beamed down to a hostile planet all alone, am I?" the man pointed out smugly, causing the familiar guilt to shoot through Pavel once again. He remained silent, knowing he wouldn't be able to think of a suitable reply. The man was right, Pavel had led himself right into this, but that did not mean he had to admit it aloud. The cloaked man gave a satisfied chuckle, crossing his arms against his chest. "Exactly. I merely used the situation to my advantage. Surely that doesn't go against Starfleet regulation."

"Zis is a hostage situation, which is clearly against our code," Chekov retorted, his accent thick with indignation. He frowned, watching as the man faltered in his pacing. He twisted towards him, dark eyes glaring a hole in the invisible walls of Pavel's cell. The young Russian almost shrank back in fear. Though everything inside him told him to head as far away from the danger as possible, all he could do was stand taller and square his shoulders. "If you don't want to go to jail, I suggest you let me out of zis cell." He demanded, trying to put on a negotiation voice - though he couldn't help when his voice shook with a slight amount of fear. He had belief that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill him, but he knew there was some reason he was being kept. There was something more going on here than a simple hostage-for-ransom situation.

"Jail is not a concern for me." The man said simply, walking forward a couple of paces. He stopped in front of a small table Pavel had not noticed before. On it appeared to be a few picture frames, turned so that their backs faced the boy and hid the image inside. Chekov couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in confusion as the man slowly picked up one circular frame and stared at it almost longingly before carefully setting it down again. So this man did at least have some sort of capability for emotion, it seemed. It was an interesting possibility, one which made Chekov wonder if he could use that to his advantage somehow. If only he could see what was in the frame...

"I would be counting my blessings if I were you, ensign," the man suggested lightly, although Pavel could clearly detect the underlying malice. "There are far worse places you could have beamed down to, far worse creatures than me to deal with. Klingons, for example. Particularly nasty, they are. They would have killed you on sight, and would have made easy work of it. Yes, you are quite lucky I'm not Klingon, Mr. Chekov." Pavel swallowed nervously despite himself, pressing his lips firmly together as the man turned away from him, his head slightly inclined in the direction of the table.

"You... you say creatures. You make it sound as if you are not human..." He mused, almost accusingly. "What are you?" The question was reluctant, as though Pavel wasn't quite certain he wanted to know the answer. The man only slowly raised his hands to his head in response, firmly grasping the seam of his hood.

**Authors' Note: **

**We're very sorry for the delay in this (kind of short) chapter. Val was at band camp for two weeks, and Marcelle was suffering from writer's block. Now we are back, and plan to work all day on the next installment! Thank you all for reading and leaving wonderful comments. We love all of our reviews, they fuel our writing fire. Just wait until next chapter and see what happens... **


	8. Chapter 8 - Pieces Fall

Left on the bridge to her own devices, Uhura could do nothing but sit and worry over her fellow crewmember. Pavel was one of her favorite people to talk to aboard the Enterprise. He was consistently there for her, someone to talk to whenever she needed. It seemed that he often had the best advice, even though he seemed young and inexperienced. When she and Spock were having any kind of disagreement, she would go to Pavel to vent over a nice dinner or drink, and by the end of the evening, he would have offered his opinion on what she should do. For the most part, whatever he suggested always worked. For instance, talking it out with Spock when she was sore over his being so ready to die had been his idea, straight from the mind of the child prodigy. And although she hadn't brought the matter up at the best time, or in front of the best company, it had at least gotten them talking, which was more than she could have done on her own. Her relationship with Spock was now rocky at best, but it was still there, and that was all that mattered. Something about how gentlemanly and sweet Pavel was made her love him like a little brother, or a best friend. Her heart ached, already missing him. Often, she took care of Pavel, as if he were her son. She knew he was old enough to be on his own, but something made her want to be his surrogate mother figure at times. When he had a busy day and was so flustered he forgot to eat dinner, she would send him a reminder. If his English was slipping, she would offer to help him on pronunciation. They had the sort of in depth talks that would make any mother and child jealous, and Uhura couldn't get enough of his quirky habits. He was honestly her best friend on the ship - which was why she was so dedicated to bringing him home.

For the past hour, after the Captain and chief medical officer went off to god knows where, Uhura had been stationed at her position on the bridge. She was scrolling through communications, attempting to find a way to get into contact with Pavel. He had left his transmitter on the ship, and the planet seemed to be blocking their communication - which was unusual. Typically, only enemy ships would bother with blurring transmissions or putting up shields. Something about this entire situation didn't seem right to the young communications officer, but she could do nothing but stare at the screen in frustration. All of her efforts so far had been in vain, and she had never been so close to giving up in her life. Nyota was usually a very persistent woman, much like Kirk was with his flirting, as she knew from personal experience. And with the life of her "son" on the line, she knew she shouldn't show the slightest intention of slipping in her focus. However, nothing was working, she had exhausted every option. It didn't seem as though there was anything left to do but wait.

She was leaning back in her chair, fighting a losing battle with fatigue, when her console blipped. Bolting upright, she tapped at her screen, eyes opened wide. Communications - they were open for the planet. She gasped, not entirely sure if she could believe what she was seeing. They had been down for hours, what had opened them up again now? She punched a few commands in the screen, her eyes growing even wider as she discovered that transportations were operable as well. She let out a sort of surprised noise, then composed herself, spinning around in her chair to face Sulu. "Lieutenant!" she cried, out of breath with excitement. "Transmissions are operable. Please, alert the captain immediately!" She couldn't describe the look on Sulu's face at her news: it was a combination of excitement, hope, and determination, something Uhura knew she was feeling herself.

Hikaru leaped from his seat at the helm, reaching the captain's chair in two steps before quickly sitting down and pressing the shipwide communication button.

"Captain Kirk! We need you on the bridge right away, sir-communication and transports are back online!" he reported almost breathlessly before returning to his seat, facing a still somewhat stunned Uhura. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure, Sulu. They just suddenly opened up again, I haven't been able to figure out what caused it," she admitted, searching the screen for anything could alert her to the source of what seemed like a miracle to them now. There was nothing of the kind that she could see, and she was still diligently sifting through information when Jim and Bones came running onto the bridge.

"Please tell me I heard you right, Sulu," Kirk gasped, hunched over and gripping the back of his chair. Uhura was so used to hearing Pavel chirp "Keptin on ze bridge!" to alert everyone to Kirk's arrival that it was almost alien for his voice to be absent, but she tried to push the thought from her mind in an attempt to remain in control of her emotions.

"Yes, sir, that's what Uhura told me," Sulu nodded in Nyota's direction, and she faced her captain with her features set in complete seriousness.

"All communication and transports are ready and active, sir, but suddenly. I don't know how much longer they'll stay this way, it's probably best that we take action now," she advised, glancing towards Spock, who had risen when the captain and chief medical officer had entered. He acknowledged her with a nod and turned back towards his superior. He hadn't even smirked at her, which was usually the closest resemblance to a smile he had. Uhura let herself sigh internally, but pushed it all from her mind. She couldn't focus on anything but her baby now.

"Can you target Chekov, beam him back up?" Kirk leaned over the chair, narrowing his eyes to squint at her screen. Uhura shook her head, bewildered. Her thin and nimble fingers combed through the digital planet, spinning the projection of it around. The floating ball of light was thermal, and was supposed to show her a map of the planet's biotic and abiotic sources. For the most part, she found traces of non-human creatures roaming around, appearing as small red or orange dots on the planet's surface, but the computer didn't pick up anything human. In fact, she couldn't find any form of life that was sentient.

"Captain," she said, a slight pitch to her tone. She was getting very weirded out by the whole ordeal, and something about it seemed entirely wrong. "I can't find crewmember Chekov anywhere on the planet's surface." She said slowly, spinning the planet projection faster in her hands.

The astonishment in the room was audible. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, watching as Nyota checked and rechecked the small map of the planet. It was obvious that he wasn't there - or, at least, the ship's computer didn't recognize him on the planet.

"So he's gone?" Piped up Sulu, his voice near the point of cracking. A glance towards the young lieutenant showed concern in his features, fear beyond putting into words. He was just as close to losing his best friend as Uhura was.

"Not necessarily." Spock took a step forward, crouching down next to Uhura's seat at the consol. It was the closest to each other they had been in a while. Though their relationship had been repaired, they were both under extreme amounts of stress. She found herself longing for him to hold her, to tell her that it would be alright, that they would find Pavel. However, they were still at attention and on duty. There would be time for that later. For now, their shoulders touched slightly and she forced herself not to cry out of frustration. She had to focus on the task at hand.

Gently, he reached forward, and with all the care of holding a baby, he removed the projection planet from Uhura's hands. The consol blipped, computer readjusting to the new person holding the map, and Uhura leaned forward. Being a communications specialist, she knew only a certain amount about the computers aboard the ship. Spock held a look of intense focus as he cupped his hands around the projection, then split it open. Immediately, the computer responded by cutting the sphere into sections to show each layer of the planet, down to the very core. That was where they saw it - the red and black splotches of human life, sitting comfortably on the second layer of the planet.

"They're just not on the surface." The Captain breathed with relief, stepping closer. Soon, most of the ship's crew was centered around the projection map, staring at it in wonder.

"Bloody brilliant." Scotty voiced in awe, his mouth gaping slightly. "I mean, the man's a complete wackjob, but you've got to admit that's a pretty good strategy." He glanced around the gathered crew as though looking for someone to back him up. Bones snorted in agreement before clapping Kirk on the shoulder.

"Well, Jim, what are you gonna do here? We can't beam him up if he's underground, you know," he pointed out, and Kirk nodded somberly in return, looking Bones dead in the eye.

"I know. We're going to have to go get him ourselves," he announced. A tense silence filled the bridge. This was what had caused the chaos they were dealing with now. A mission to go down to the planet and explore had sparked Chekov's interest, and trouble had ensued as a result. Uhura knew the rest of the crew had to be thinking of what they would do - they knew the planet was inhabited by danger before, and it seemed as though it was worse, now. Moments passed of quiet thinking before Spock spoke up.

"Captain, I volunteer my services," he said matter-of-factly, as though Kirk had no say in the matter. Jim smiled slightly at the Vulcan man.

"Mr. Spock, I appreciate your offer. Of course you're coming with me," he accepted with a trace

of amusement in his voice, the faintest hint of a smirk upon his thin lips. Uhura watched the two of them, her best friends aside from Pavel, comparing these men to the ones she had known almost two years ago. Men who couldn't be in the same room as each other without starting a fight, men who were now close friends. It warmed her heart to see how far they had come, another ounce of proof that Vulcans weren't entirely as stoic as people wrote them off to be. She knew Spock loved her, she could feel it, see it in the way he looked at her. She knew it couldn't be just Spock's human side that felt this way-it had to be all of him, just as she loved him with her entire heart and soul.

Just as she loved Pavel. She would do anything for her friend - if he asked for her, she would be there. "As would I, Captain." She stood, facing her superior. The look in her dark eyes almost dared him to say something, to tell her no. She knew, however, that he wouldn't. He didn't want another episode to occur over degrading crew members. Though it had been entirely accidental, he had to feel as guilty about calling Pavel out for being young as she did for not defending him. Before Jim could even open his mouth to make a judgement on whether or not she could go, she had to continue. "As a communications officer, you might need me. We don't know who's down there or what language they speak. If you end up landing in the middle of Romulan warfare and you don't have anyone to speak for you, you could get killed. And that won't be doing Pavel or the rest of the crew any favors."

For the first time since he was aboard the ship, Jim was speechless. He didn't know how to answer her. Of course he would let her come, but that wasn't the point. The way Spock tensed his shoulders when she volunteered, the concern shining through his gaze and the way his hands clenched together showed the Captain what the answer needed to be. However, he wouldn't be the one to tell her. Not this time. This was between the two of them.

"Lieutenant, may I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?" Spock requested, seemingly all business, but of course she knew better. His tone seemed a shade softer, his eyes losing some of their closed-off look. She had only seen this in him a few times before - when he was going to show more of his human side.

"Of course, Commander," Uhura replied just formally. They crossed the bridge and headed out into the hallway, the eyes of the entire bridge crew following them. The doors swished shut behind them, leaving the couple with as much privacy as they knew they were going to get for a while.

"I forbid you to go on this rescue mission, Nytoa," Spock began harshly, his tone frigid. He was looking directly at her, dark eyes meeting darker eyes fueled with rage. Uhura registered the grip he had on her wrist, but she refused to acknowledge it as she glared back at her boyfriend.

"You_ forbid_ me? No, Spock, you cannot tell me what to do. Pavel is like my own child, you can't tell me that I have to stay here while you go and get him back. I'm not just going to sit here while you and Jim go off to play hero like always!" she snapped, frustrated tears brimming at her eyes. "I love him just as much as you do, maybe more than you do." At the word love, her voice broke, a few stray tears streaking down her face. "You have no right to tell me that I can't go." she spat, trying to muster as much finality in her voice as she could, but it proved to be harder than she thought. Spock watched her for a moment, his features finally softening so that the human in him seemed to resurface a little more.

"Nyota... I understand. But I still cannot let you go," he said quietly, his hand moving down from her wrist to lace his fingers with hers, her slender hand dwarfed by his own.

"Why is that, Spock? Because you need me on the ship? Because it's not logical for me to go with you?" Uhura whispered, not wanting to look at him. Instead, her gaze fixed upon their hands. He held her with such sincerity, his grip gentle but firm, as though he would never let her go. How accustomed she had become to his hands on her, his soothing touch and quiet whispers of love. Yet now, he was holding her to keep her at bay, as if he was making sure she wouldn't disappear like Pavel had. There was love in his embrace, but also control, the kind that was affectionate and not at all harsh. She liked it when he held her hand like this, when he let his emotions show.

"Because I can't lose you again." He murmured. Uhura looked up at him, somewhat shocked. The sheer truth in his voice startled her, because she had never heard it in him before. She could feel her hands trembling at his words, the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, but she focused on him. How broken he had sounded, as if she were already gone. For a moment, she considered the times that they had been separated, close to death. The breaking in her heart when he almost met death in the volcano had nearly torn her apart. She would have done anything to save him, and he seemed just as willing for her."I almost lost you once, Nyota. I cannot allow it to happen a second time."

"Spock... I..." Uhura trailed off, not quite knowing how to respond. His concern wasn't for logic-it was for her. That she would be taken from him just as his mother had been. That he would have to relive those moments when he watched her be in a position of danger. She thought back to those moments on Qo'noS, when she had approached the soldiers. She felt her life flash before her eyes when they grabbed her. What had he felt? They hadn't really discussed it at all, because that was not his way. Yet here he was, finally admitting that he could not lose her.

"Please, Nyota. I need you to remain on the ship. Promise me," Spock insisted, and the desperation he let show convinced Uhura that she couldn't possibly tell him no.

"Fine. I promise," she finally gave in, using his hold on her hand to pull him in. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his chest. She breathed in, the smell of clean laundry detergant on his uniform a comforting scent. Her eyes fluttered shut as she registered nothing but his hands fitted in the small of her back, thinking of nothing but being there alone with him. Why did Starfleet have to be such a dangerous job? Why couldn't they be happy together without having to worry about each other being killed on a daily basis? Why did it have to be so hard all the time? She knew it wasn't fair to blame anyone but herself for this. She had signed up for a job that would keep her on her toes, and it was delivered to her on a silver platter. She hadn't known at that time that she would meet the man of her dreams while taking classes at the Academy. She hadn't planned on falling in love, but she had, and she knew now what they meant to each other. Though her heart ached to go find Pavel, she had no doubt that Spock and Kirk could do it on their own and return safely. She just wished she could go with him. It must be instinct to want to protect the ones that you love. As Uhura wanted to go with Spock to keep a wary eye on him, he wanted her aboard the ship where he wouldn't have to look out for her at all - where he knew she would be safe. As much as her entirety wanted to beg him to stay with her aboard the Enterprise, she knew it would not be fair to keep him here. He was doing his duty to his Captain and crew, and she had to let him.

"Let's go get our navigator back." She lifted her head up to look at him, a ghost of a smile upon her face. She slowly slipped her hand out of his, although she wanted to never let go, and Spock nodded almost imperceptibly at her. That's when there was a loud sound from the ship, a crackling that everyone knew very well. It was the feedback of a microphone, the shifting images of an incoming transmission. As soon as they heard it, Uhura picked up the sound of a female officer alerting the captain. Turning to face him, their eyes locked, excitement visible in her's and vague interest in his. Already he was returning to business, giving her one last, small smile before sliding the doors to enter the bridge.

Uhura rushed back to her station, putting her communication device in her ear, trying to pick up whatever was being transmitted to them. She opened the window for the video transmission and gasped. There, on the screen, was the same hooded figure who had been threatening Pavel. In the background was their lovable Russian, sitting with his head in his hands, shoulders slumped over. She was half ready to call out to him, when she remembered that she had to be professional. Her eyes narrowed at the man, who had lowered his cloak. Everything about him told her he was dangerous. From the way his dark eyes seemed to look at each one of the bridge members directly to the silence he gave them, she was wary. He was scarred on his left side, chocolate colored skin crinkled like burn parchment. It gave her chills when he locked onto her, almost as if he had known what she was thinking about his appearance.

"Identify yourself." Kirk demanded, settling down in the Captain's chair to glare at the man who had become their new enemy. His electric blue eyes flashed with anger, his nostrils flaring with the control he attempted to keep. It was definitely difficult for him to remain emotionally stable as a captain when such events as these occurred.

"You already know me, Captain. We've spoken before, don't you remember?" the man mocked, smirking at them. The left side of his mouth refused to curl up with the rest of his smile, giving him a sort of maniacal look to him. His eyes, so dark that they were almost black, seemed crazed. Even Kirk seemed a bit uneasy to be face to face with such a creature. He looked human for the most part, but there was something about his oddly shaped ears that made him seem like something else. They were rounded, like a human's should be, but wrinkled and concaved at the top, as though he had plastic surgery to enhance them and it didn't turn out well.

"Your name seems to have slipped my mind," Kirk narrowed his eyes, leaning forward in his chair. It was a position he often took when he felt the need to become intimidating. He showed intensity that could not be matched by anyone in the room. Yet the man on the screen was not phased by his frustrated glare.

"Yes, I do seem to have that effect on people." The man mused, an almost lost expression in his eyes. "Even when I died, no one thought to remember my name." He murmured, and Uhura shot a confused glance at the captain. He tried to hide his bewildered expression, but the man seemed to have caught it anyway. "You seem distraught, Captain. Was it something I said? Or perhaps it's my appearance that befuddles you." He chuckled without smiling, turning his head so that the scarred half of his face was on the screen. "Don't you recognize me? I daresay your friend Khan would." The name was like a plague, infecting every crew member's mind and burrowing in to drag up the memories they dared not face but in their nightmares when they could not run away from it. Uhura stiffened, drawing in a deep breath through her nose, trying to count down from ten. She did not want to think about that man, or what he did to their crew.

"You knew Khan." This was not a question, but a statement, and the man merely smiled at Kirk's venemous words.

"Relatively speaking, yes. He assisted me in a time of need, and I simply returned the favor," he explained, speaking as casually as though he were discussing the weather.

"Are you saying you helped him try to destroy Starfleet? You helped him to kill countless members of my crew? The former captain of the Enterprise as well?" Kirk was on his feet now, his voice rising with him.

"I was indebted to him, it was the only thing I could do," the man insisted, not seeming at all troubled by the accusations. "You would have done the same, had you been in my place."

"Don't act like you know me," Kirk spat, hatred forming each word like poison forming at the end of a dart intended to kill.

"Trust me, Captain, what I did is common among all men. I do not have to know you to assume that your actions would have been in accordance with mine," the scarred man reasoned, the way he raised his eyebrows striking a chord in Uhura's mind. Where had she seen that motion before?

"I would never have resorted to assisting in murder to pay back a favor!" Kirk shouted, and Uhura saw him clench his fists, knowing that their captain was doing his best to control himself.

"Do not try to appear so righteous, Captain Kirk. You cannot tell me that you know what you would have done in a situation that has never presented itself to you," their adversary pointed out, his calm and collected voice like nails on a chalkboard. It frustrated the captain to no end that he seemed like such a know it all, a quality he could only afford to deal with in Spock. When his enemy addressed him as though he were below his ranking, he could not stand it.

"What do you want?" he finally asked, weariness slightly detectable in his voice.

"To taunt you." The man smirked, eyes gleaming with entertainment. In the background, Pavel shifted, chest heaving. It was not a clear enough transmission for them to be able to tell, but the boy had either been crying or breathing heavily. Uhura almost jumped out of her seat, but reminded herself that this was what he wanted. He was teasing them by showing them what they could not have. She clenched her jaw, refusing to cry, and looked away. Kirk trained his eyes on the screen, as Bones stepped closer, attempting to make a medical evaluation without being near him in person.

"You want him back, I can tell." The man grinned, obviously gauging their reactions to his words. Sulu looked like he was about ready to jump through the screen and throttle him. The only person who remained stoic and expressionless was Spock, whose face oddly mimicked the man's. They had a similar poker-face, the kind that would take years of practice for a human. As another chill ran it's cold fingers up her spine, Uhura wondered how a human would come to learn how to be so emotionless.  
"Tell me, what does your little Russian friend mean to you? I've become quite accustomed to his presence in my laboratory." He said with a sly little grin, his tone full of mockery and disrespect for the captain he was addressing. "He has been decent company. Oh, how I've longed for someone to talk to. Mr. Chekov has proved to be a very good listener. Not the greatest at speaking clear English, but I suppose that's just a little bit of a quirk."

Kirk shook his head, no longer trying to hide his anger. Hikaru was wearing the same frustration upon his face. He stiffened as the man called Pavel to look at the screen, and the young boy's face turned. His jaw was set, his mouth in a grim line, his eyes betraying nothing. A dark purple streak highlighted his cheekbone, a bruise that was soon turning black. Uhura felt suddenly sick, her stomach clenching as she realized that they had no clue what was happening aboard this planet. Obviously, Chekov was being hurt in one way or another. How had he gotten that dark of a bruise? The keen eyes of Bones zeroed in on the fact that his knuckles were bruised, the skin red and cracked, as though he had been fighting.

"Pavel..." Sulu murmured, the pain in his voice evident. Kirk still said nothing as he took in the boy's condition. Part of Uhura wished she could do something. Every part of her soul begged to be going down on the expedition to hurt the man who had laid his hands on her friend. Yet she knew it would be futile for her to go to the planet's surface. Obviously, this man spoke English, so her services were not needed. She knew that Spock would be only giving half of himself to the mission if she was there, the other half of him trained on protecting her instead of the captain or Pavel. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to either one of them because of her selfishness.

"Go ahead, Captain." The man pretended to read his mind. "Call in some backup from Starfleet. That _was_ what you were considering, wasn't it?"

Grudgingly, Kirk freed his lips from the straight line they had been forced into. "No, it wasn't." He spat, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "Now that you mention it..." He went out on a limb, hoping to scare the man in front of him. Reverse psychology told him that the man mentioned calling in backup because he didn't want him to. Or, maybe he knew that Kirk would think that, and he actually wanted him to call. Whatever it was, it didn't make sense. Why mention the entirety of Starfleet? Did he actually want to wage a war? With him and what army did he plan to make a scene? "It might not be a bad idea to alert the admiral of our situation. Wouldn't you agree?" Kirk challenged, staring straight into the beady eyes of this mysterious man. He didn't know what to think. Why did he recognize him, why did his mannerism bother the Captain so much, and why did he have their crew member? There was something so well thought out about this that made him want to shiver. It was as if he were consistently one step ahead.

"By all means, _Captain_." He hissed, his tone betraying some sort of emotion. It seemed as though he found himself very clever. The man grinned, drawing attention again to the burned left side of his face. He seemed almost gleeful with this game that he was playing. "Before we are out of time, I must implore you to alert your admiral. Please, do tell him that Thomas Harewood is stirring up trouble again." He mocked, his tone light and airy, as if he couldn't care less about Starfleet coming to make an attack.

With that, the transmission cut off and the pieces began to fall into place.

**Authors' Note: **

**We hope you all enjoyed the next installment! We're already working on chapter nine. More surprises await the crew in upcoming chapters! What's going on with Pavel down on that planet? Why is Thomas Harewood seeking to "stir up some trouble?" You'll have to wait to find out! Thank you all for reading and reviewing and being patient with us for slow posting. We love you! **


	9. Chapter 9 - Fight Club

**Authors' Note:**

**Hey everyone! Don't forget to check the author's note at the end of the chapter for a bit of a surprise. Happy reading!**

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Pavel ducked into a crouch, balancing himself by pressing his palms against the ground as he barely missed yet another swing. He grunted, sweat pouring from his brow as he straightened to a standing position in time to throw up his right forearm, reflexively blocking an incoming punch. He was tired enough to collapse on the floor in a pile of sore muscles and frustration - but he couldn't let on to any sign of weakness. They had been going at it for quite some time, in a way that almost seemed like friendly competitive rough housing. However, he knew that one wrong step, a millisecond late on a defensive move, and he would be in a very bad position. Every day he had been beat, but he never lost his willingness to fight. Though he technically didn't have a choice, he wouldn't stop clutching onto the hope of finally coming out of the match a winner.

It had been three days of torture on this planet, but it felt like an eternity. With every day came two rounds of "physical activity," one before breakfast and the last before dinner. Though no rules had been established, it was understood clearly what his captor meant by this: "if you want to eat, you fight back until I'm tired of playing with you." It was enough to break a man, both mentally and physically.

"Come on, Pavel," he taunted, skirting around the edges of his cell. Even when it was time to for Pavel to stretch his muscles, the man never let him out. He merely passed through the wall as though it were not there, a technology even Starfleet had not developed quite yet. There seemed to be so much that Pavel did not know about the situation he was in. He knew nothing of his captor but his name, which he only just managed to hear from the transmission. He was being mocked, batted around like a toy mouse for a cat. He was merely the entertainment until the real fights began. For now, Thomas was brushing up on his hand to hand combat by using Pavel's Starfleet training skills that were learned in the academy. It was forcing the young soldier to buck up and remember all that he had learned.

Duck down when a blow to the head is coming, dodge left and right when it comes to side hits. Don't tense up your hand too much before a punch, and leave your thumb out from under your fingers. Block when you can, avoid when you can't block, and run when you're too far beat to even avoid the attacks. Though the last wasn't an available option, Chekov wished with all of his heart that he could run. If he could go back in time and do it all over again, he would have just stayed aboard the ship and stewed over the unfair treatment there. Instead, he was stuck in a cell to think over it all, relive every moment from the very beginning. He didn't know what was worse - being stuck in captivity, or being stuck in his own mind.

"Throw a punch, son." He demanded, raising his arms as if he were to let Pavel get one hit in for free. His stomach was entirely open to attack, but Pavel had learned. If he were to go for an offensive hit to the stomach, he would end up getting his hand caught in the man's intricate robe, and be unable to defend himself when his hand was grabbed. That had happened yesterday, resulting in his arm being wrenched behind his back to the point of extreme pain. It had ended the fight, of course, because Thomas knew he had won and wouldn't overdo it. No, no - the boy had to live... for now.

Instead of going for the obvious target, Pavel jumped on instinct - literally. He landed a kick to the man's leg, just above the knee, on the inner thigh. If he had been taller, or perhaps had a better capability to jump, it would have landed somewhere it would hurt more. However, the kick was fairly powerful for a young man his size, and it left his captor doubled over in pain, clutching his leg. He looked up, his dark eyes full with fury, the hood of his robe falling back to reveal a menacing glare. Before the young ensign could let his mind talk him out of doing anything rash, he jumped on the older man, going in for a bear grip on his shoulders. Though Pavel did not weigh much, he managed to tackle him to the ground, and the fight seemed to come to a clattering halt, if only for a minute.

As they grappled for control, he realized that this was no longer an exercise. He had come away with shiners and bruises alike, but this time was different. There was an anger in his eyes, a fury that was unspeakable. As the man let out a deafening shriek of frustration, he toppled over on his side, pushing down on Pavel as much as he could. The young boy could feel his shoulder blades, his spine grinding against the cold concrete ground, even through his Starfleet issued padded clothing. He didn't want to cry out, but the pain was in great amount. He felt his body giving up, even though his mind was pleading himself not to. He went limp, feeling the pressure come to an almost unbearable point until the hands lifted and he looked up.

Cold fingers wrapped around his throat, fragile and breakable in his unprotected position. "You're not going to try that again." Thomas snarled, bright white teeth revealed under a curled back lip. Pavel would have nodded his ascension if he could move at all. The pressure upon his vocal chords rendered him unable to make a sound, and he knew that was how his captor liked it. "As much as this exercise is for you to remain nimble, it is mainly for me to remain in control." He clutched at Pavel tighter, and the young boy raised his hands to his neck, clawing at the hand that grasped him. His strength was unbelievable, and he seemed as though he was holding nothing more than a doll or a pillow. It was too easy for him - how he could be so strong eluded him.

"I will always be one step ahead." He growled, almost to the point of laughing at Pavel's feeble attempt to escape. "I will always be the one in charge here." He pulled up with his arm, lifting him slightly from the floor. Pavel's cheeks were red, his eyes swollen and brimming with the frustration and pain in his tears. He could barely breath, and Thomas knew it. Dropping his hold on the young man, he grinned at the sickening sound of Chekov's head hitting against the concrete. His curly hair bounced back, covering his face, the defeat in his eyes hidden by his eyelids as he scrunched his face in pain. He refused to cry out, to vocalize the damage he had taken in, but as he lay there, his body curled inward. He sat on the concrete, stuck in the fetal position, taking time to account for all of his wounds. Nothing felt broken, but everything seemed bruised. His ribs, his face, his knuckles, his pride. It all hurt, especially his throat, where he knew there would be purple imprints left from his fingers. Going in for an attack had been a mindless, careless idea. He had given into the taunting and managed to almost get himself killed. _Good work for the day, Pavel. You sure showed him. _

"Get up." Thomas had only given him a few minutes to sit and recuperate. He needed more time, of course, but the man liked schedule. Army crawling to his bed, he managed to pull himself over the side to sit on the bed, leaning against the wall. He wished he could take a long shower. He pictured the hot steam relaxing his muscles and the warm water easing the pain of his bruises. Yet he was only allowed one shower a day, in the mornings before his time for exercise. The cell had a dip in the floor that lead to a drain, and a shower head was positioned in the corner. As much as it was embarrassing to be showering in the middle of a room, Thomas was always off somewhere else during such times, to give him privacy. However, he only had about eight minutes to shower, and less time to dry off before he had to be dressed and ready for exercise.

"Dinner is served." Thomas said, much too cheery. He had a small kitchenette positioned across the laboratory room, where he could pull out precooked meals to serve to his captive. Tonight was a plate of assorted vegetables, covered in some sort of meat and gravy sauce. Pavel wrinkled his nose, wishing he could chose not to accept the plate. However, Thomas shoved it into his lap, grabbed his hand, and forced him to curl his fingers around his fork.

He pulled a chair up across from him, and sat to eat his dinner. It was almost a ritual for them. They would eat together every night, much to Panels discomfort. The man had disgusting eating habits, due to the fact that half of his face would not cooperate and his jaw was barely functional. It made Pavel frown and wince at the sounds he was making, but he couldn't avoid it.

"Go on, eat." Thomas implored, eyes alight with fire. He was frustrated with his stubborn captive, that was sure. Pavel merely shook his head, too tired to even lift the fork. "I know you have heard me, Mr. Chekov. I suggest you do as I say. We want to keep your strength up." He grinned maliciously, and Chekhov managed to stab his food with ferocity that he hadn't even known he possessed. He gingerly passed the food through his mouth, something that he thought was broccoli but couldn't be entirely sure of.

"Oh come now, Pavel. Why so despondent all of a sudden? Do you not wish to talk anymore?" Thomas questioned, his voice taking an innocent tone they both knew he was far beyond. He leaned his elbows on his knees, head resting on his interlocked hands, his face set in his trademark lopsided smirk.

Pavel hated the sight of him, hated that he was stuck here to fight every single day. He wasn't a fighter by nature. He was a brainiac, the last person anyone would expect to throw a punch. He believed in peaceful resolutions, only using violence when necessary. That was why he thought he could handle negotiations in the first place, because he was genuinely good with people. He used to think that there was a way out of everything if he thought about it, if he used the gifts he knew his mind possessed. But Pavel did not feel like the optimistic boy everyone knew on the Enterprise any longer. It was as though Thomas was changing his very nature with each fight, turning him into a different person, until Pavel could not recognize himself anymore. And perhaps the part of the whole situation that bothered him the most was that he had not even the faintest idea why it was happening. What did Thomas want with him so badly that he insisted on Pavel being in shape? Why did he continue to hail the Enterprise if only, as he claimed, to taunt them? What was he aiming to achieve from all of this?

"I want to know why I am here." Pavel managed to spit out, words seething through tightly clenched teeth. His stomach churned to think about the demands he had just made. He was already skating on thin ice after such a dangerous fight, and now he was being disrespectful to his captor. He often wondered what the other members of the crew would have done in the same situation. He imagined Kirk would be the one to win fights with Thomas. Of course, he had heard of the infamous fight in the bar, when Captain Pike first recruited a young James Tiberius - but that had been against four men in an unfair fight. He hadn't really seen his captain fight anyone else, but he knew that Kirk was strong, and when he lacked the physical strength, he still would not give up. It made Pavel feel weak, that he had so often been beaten to a pulp and wanted to cry instead of get back up and throw the next punch. Though he knew there were other crew members, ones who were not fighters, like Spock, or Uhura, they would have made better choices in the same situation. Spock would have thought of a logical way out of it all, and managed to never break by shutting his feelings off. When it came to Uhura, Pavel was sure that Nyota would have won Thomas over with her kindly charm, and talked him into negotiations in seconds. Why couldn't he himself have the same kind of affect? If only he had the brawn of his captain, the brains of Spock, and the grace and charm of Uhura. There would be nothing stopping him. But he was just Pavel Andreivich Chekov, and he knew that had to just be enough for now.

"A logical request. Although, haven't I made it quite obvious?" Thomas leaned in further, his plate balanced precariously on his knees, between his elbows. His grin made Pavel lay his fork down, unease causing his stomach to clench. Had the answer been staring him right in the face the whole time? Had he been blind to it? He was supposed to be a prodigy, how had he not been able to figure it out by now? It was amazing to Pavel that one question from Thomas could send his mind reeling, could cause him to doubt everything about himself.

"Well, my dear friend, I'm sure you've been wondering." He let the words slide out slowly, as if they weren't the most obvious revelations. "I'm thirsty for revenge, don't you see?"

"Revenge... against the Enterprise?"

"Ah, we don't all think ourselves into boxes like some Starfleet members. I prefer to dream bigger than just the_ Enterprise_." He shook his head sadly, as if Pavel actually caused him pain. "No, I mean against the entire Starfleet. I plan to take you all down. If it means going through your fleet one by one, picking off every miniscule flea or fly, I will do it. I will make sure that every one of you pays for what you have done to take part in ruining my life."

"What have we done, exactly?" Pavel inquired, suddenly more interested in the man's intentions. This wasn't just about him, or his family back on the ship... it was about all of them, now. The more information he could get, the more of a help he would be if - no, _when_ - he got out of this mess.

"You assisted in the capture and cryogenic freezing of Khan." His words were hard, and cool as ice. However, on the next sentence, he began to break. His eyes had been staring darkly into Pavel's, and were now downcast. He froze, seemingly stuck in reliving something, gaze fixated at the floor. "You prevented him from completing the work he had begun with me, and this is something that I cannot allow to go unavenged. It was the actions of Starfleet that has made our efforts so far in vain, and thus it is they who must take the fall for they have done. You are just the beginning, Mr. Chekov. A pawn, nothing more."

Pavel was taken aback, to say the least. He straightened, his back as stiff as a board. His eyes were wide and confused, searching the man's face for any trace of deception. Yet he seemed to be telling the truth - or, at least, believing the lies he told himself. Thomas Harewood was working with Khan? From the little snippets that Chekov had heard, the man was forced into servitude, used by Khan in the same way Thomas was using Pavel. He didn't know the details, but he had heard that Khan's blood had saved Lucille Harewood in the same way it had saved Captain Kirk. Of course, it didn't come for free, and Harewood was forced to activate a bomb in the Kelvin Memorial Archive, forfeiting his own life for his daughter's.

"How are you even here right now?" He managed to voice his number one question. Thomas Harewood was supposed to be dead. Of course, in the wreckage of the Archive, hardly any bodies were found - but no one could survive setting off - and being so close to - an explosion of its size without a miracle. "You're supposed to be dead." He felt a sinking dread in his heart. Part of him hoped that this was not the real Thomas Harewood, that he was playing a part in someone else's sick games. Yet he knew, somewhere deep inside, that this man was telling the truth.

"The wonders of modern day science." Harewood leaned back, spreading his arms wide and pretending to be amazed. "He beamed me up, of course." He rolled his chocolate colored eyes, looking back at the young boy to sneer, his mouth turned into a vicious snarl.

"Impossible." Pavel challenged, his eyes sharp as he leaned forward. "No one could have gotten you out of there that fast." His thoughts flashed back to the Vulcan incident. He knew from experience that there were only certain time spans to which you could beam a person before... before you lost them. He resisted the urge to close his eyes to fend off the memory of Amanda Grayson's signal dropping faster and faster away from him...away from the Enterprise...

The man rolled his eyes, simply turning his head to the side and lowering the hood of his robe once more. There were his scars, covering the left side of him entirely. It made Pavel want to cringe, just looking at them, imagining the pain he had gone through. "Obviously, he wasn't able to get me out of there fast enough. Hence my disfigurement." He spat, running his hand along his scalp, feeling the rough skin. "Oh, but I did survive that explosion. Mister Khan made sure of that. I would thank him for my survival - if I could."

"Wait," Pavel interjected, confused. "Why would Khan want to make sure that you would survive?" He knew quite well that Khan wouldn't have hesitated to kill any single one of them... so why did Thomas insist that the man now forever encased in a frozen slumber would have even bothered to spare him at all?

"Ah, Khan." Thomas said slowly, the name on his lips sliding slowly. It was as if with every second that he drew out his name, he was reminiscing over the memories he had with him. What had happened? It amazed Pavel, the changes that Thomas Harewood had gone through. At one point, he had been determined to do anything for his daughter to live, to smile for another day, to become a young woman and live a happy life. Had he dreamed of walking her down the aisle, holding his first grandchild? Now, it seemed as though the only thing in his dream was revenge, and he couldn't fathom why. Wouldn't he want to focus on how to cure his Lucille? Unless she was already... no. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the thought of a dead Lucille Harewood was one he didn't want to dwell on. He hadn't even known the girl, only heard of her condition after the Section 31 incident. She was miraculously improved, thanks to Khan's amazing blood - yet some miracles don't last very long. Did he know that his little Lucy was slowly falling apart, with no one to hold her but her widowed mother, with no hopes for a future now that her father seemed to be doing nothing to help anymore? He had abandoned them, so it might have seemed to her. And it only gave Pavel more of a reason to hate Thomas Harewood.

"He needed me, I suppose. I was valuable to him." The way that he elongated every word made Pavel wonder if he even knew what he was saying. It wasn't a prepared speech, that much was obvious. Perhaps he didn't plan on telling his captive what it was that made him do this. "I feel as though he enjoyed the rage that I felt. Oh, if only he knew - I was angry with the world back then. I was frustrated with God, for ruining my chances. If he thought I was ready to start a war_ then_, he should see me now." He laughed without humor, voice hard and impenetrable. Though Pavel wished he could ask a thousand questions, he kept his mouth shut, and waited to see what he would be told. "I have to say, you and the rest of the Enterprise crew has made this all quite more interesting for me than it was going to be, and for that I thank you. You and your captain seem so willing to play directly into my plans. It was almost comical for me to watch this all unfold. The best part of it all was your arrival, Mr. Chekov. It allowed me to save my resources for the time being."

"Your resources?" Pavel prompted, although something told him he already knew exactly what resources Thomas was referring to.

"Yes, I must admit that it was nice to have a bargaining chip. I could play with you and your friends for a while, rather than focus on my job too much. It really is stressful, constantly thinking of revenge. Finding new people to toy with - now that makes my job much more entertaining," He admitted with a wicked smile, skirting around Pavel's initial question.

"But...what do you_ want_?" the boy implored, a hint of desperation in his voice. That was really all he wanted to know. An object, a goal, some sort of tangible kind of proof that there was a reason behind the madness. That this wasn't all just for revenge. Thomas had said Chekov was a pawn, a bargaining chip. So there had to be something more, didn't there? Harewood looked directly into Pavel's eyes at the question, all earlier pretense and mirth gone from his twisted face.

"I want Khan."

**Authors' Note:**

**Hello again, Marcelle and Val here! We hope you've enjoyed this update. There are a few things we'd like to talk to you about before our next upload. First, because she's a very musical kind of person, Marcelle requests I advise you all of what music we listen to while we write. Our favorite from the past few days has been** **Imagine Dragon's** **_"Ready, Aim, Fire"_**** (You can find it available on Youtube). Also available on Youtube are the sound tracks for both Star Trek: Into Darkness and the 2009 Star Trek film (those are what Val prefers to listen to!) **

**On an entirely different note, we would like to thank all of our readers for reviewing! The first thing we do every morning is log on and check for new reviews (don't hate, you know you would do it, too). To encourage you to continue with your kind comments, we have decided to hold a contest! Leave us a comment with a review - something to do with the story and your opinions on it would be nice - and we'll pick our favorite. The winner gets a one shot written by yours truly! **

*more information will be given to the winner upon being chosen*


	10. Chapter 10 - Details or Delays

The three expedition men stood in the transporter room, suited up and ready to go. To any random outsider, they might look like overgrown super heroes; sucked into skin tight suits, backpacks strapped over their shoulders, prepared for any danger. The suits were flame retardant, and could withstand most extreme weather while keeping the wearer's body temperature at a comfortable degree for their surroundings.

Kirk groaned, extending his arm and flexing a glove covered hand. "I understand they have to be comfortable and adaptable to your body. But did they have to be this tight?" He complained, grabbing a piece of the latex like fabric and stretching it. It snapped back to his arm with a resounding pop! which sounded like it hurt.

"And did they have to be green? Give me a cape and I'll practically be a superhero!" To his right, Hikaru Sulu laughed at the comment. To his left, Spock barely looked up from his handheld device.

"They are green because we need camouflage, Jim." He said stiffly, too focused on scanning his right arm to notice. Apparently he was doing his own medical diagnostics test, even though Bones had already been through one.

"I get that, pointy. It was rhetorical," Kirk snapped, still smirking as he nudged the uptight Vulcan in the arm. Sulu, of course, was finding it hard not to burst out laughing. He always thought it funny when the Captain and his right hand bickered with each other. However, he could only find amusement in something for so long. Every time he took a break to think, his mind was stuck on Pavel. He had gotten no sleep recently, spending the nights tossing and turning in thought, instead. How could he have just stood there and let them berate Pavel, just for being young? The Captain had tried to be reasonable, but Spock had been downright rude. Of course, it wasn't his fault- he was being logical. Something told Sulu that Pavel took it in a different way, however. He felt targeted and hurt by their words, and his best friend just sat there, pretending it wasn't that bad. Now look at the mess they were in.

Honestly, Hikaru had considered following Pavel out of the bridge when he had stormed away after Kirk and Spock left, but something had held him back. He had assumed that Pavel would cheerfully bounce back like he always did, although it was obvious that he was far much more hurt than usual. Part of him had urged himself to comfort his friend when he looked so broken, but Sulu had talked himself out of it, using his strong sense of duty as an excuse to stay out of it. He needed to remain at the bridge, he didn't really trust any ensigns outside of Pavel and a few select others. Chekov would be back, he had assured himself. He just needed time to brood a little, and the he would be fine. But Pavel had not been fine, and Hikaru, who was supposed to be the kid's best friend, hadn't seen it. What did that say about him?

Seeing Pavel in the condition he been in during Harewood's last hail was something he didn't know if he was ready to face again. Chekov was never in the line of fire like Kirk and Spock were, like Sulu himself was on occasion. So he wasn't at all accustomed to seeing the boy with bruises like the ones he had. Pavel had looked so worn down and weary, as though he was getting as much rest as Hikaru was. That scared the Asian man more than anything else, how very close to broken the kid seemed. None of them knew what was really going on down there, and as much as Hikaru wasn't sure if he wanted to find out, he knew they had to face it for Pavel's sake.

"Oi! Captain Kirk! Scotty here!" Montgomery's voice blared into Sulu's thoughts, coming from the ship communication system.

"Yeah, I can tell, Scotty. What is it?" Kirk replied with the utmost patience for Scotty and his excitement, just another quality Sulu wish he had himself. The hyper man sometimes got under his skin, and though he managed not to show it, that accent was much more annoying than Pavel's was. A Russian accent Hikaru could tolerate-but a rough Scottish one? Not so much.

"Dr. McCoy found somethin' in the library that you're going to want to hear!" the engineer reported quickly. The landing party men glanced at each other, all of them seeming to detect the urgency in Scotty's words.

"Bones? What is it?" Kirk asked of his chief medical officer, whom they could all hear in the background ordering Scotty to "give him the dang thing before he got hypoed in the neck."

"I was doing some medical research, Jim." Bones' voice eventually came crackling over the intercom, blunt as always. If there was one thing to be appreciated by the gruff man, it was the fact that he could always get straight to the point. "Did you know that Thomas Harewood is half Vulcan?"

"What? You're joking!" the captain exclaimed, shocked. He glanced towards Spock, who of course had a single eyebrow raised in fascination. "Could you tell?" He asked his equally half-Vulcan friend.

"No, Captain, I'm afraid this is new information to me. Although upon reflection, it does appear as though many of Mr. Harewoods' mannerisms do reflect that of my culture," Spock mused.

"Like what?" Kirk implored, looking thoroughly confused. Sulu was honestly still working out the situation himself. This was very sudden information, like nothing he would ever have suspected. But at the moment, it seemed trivial. Why would Harewood's species have anything to do with the capture of Pavel? And, the more pressing question, how could it help him?

"Not important right now, Jim! The point is, I think we might have found a motive!" Bones snapped, obviously growing tired of the chit-chat. "If he's part Vulcan, that means some Vulcan DNA is in his daughter's blood. I'm not sure how much, but I think it might explain why she's dying."

"Bones, what are you talking about?" Jim sighed, seeming flustered. Sulu vaguely remembered something about Harewood's daughter being ill, and part of that being the reason why he bombed Section 31 in London, but he felt as lost as his captain looked. As much as Starfleet attempted to keep them updated, they honestly didn't have time to keep track of any non-Federation news.

"Don't you remember? His daughter Lucille is being treated in the Royal Children's Hospital."

"Bones, this is your field, not mine. I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this."

"Damnit Jim, this is important." Automatically, the captain rolled his eyes. Typically, what Bones described as essential ended up being boring to him. Though it was always useful information, he could takes years to explain it all, and after awhile, he would have to ask for it to be put into layman's terms.

"Officer McCoy, while we understand your reasoning, we find it pertinent to beam down to the surface as soon as possible." Spock interjected, sounding obviously bored by the interaction. "We will have time to collect more information on our adversary once we have returned with our navigator."

"And I find it pertinent that you get a better haircut, Commander, but this isn't about us. I believe I was addressing the Captain." Snarky as ever, Bones was able to come up with a retort in seconds. Jim never could fully figure out why his chief medical officer and second in command were constantly at a battle of wits. Perhaps it was that they felt they were the smartest on the ship, and had trouble with accepting the fact that they were equally matched. Something told Kirk that Bones just liked getting under Spock's skin, for some reason.

"Gentlemen, this is hardly the time." Kirk sighed, frustrated beyond measure. His patience was already running thin, and the stressful situation wasn't doing anything to help. With every second, Pavel could be closer to death, the Enterprise could be closer to destruction, and the crew would have no clue what to do to prevent any imminent danger.

"No, Jim, you're going to want to see this."

"Bones, this isn't a game. I - we - need to beam down before it's too late. We're in a very precarious situation and -" he was about to come up with another excuse when the urgency in Bones' voice finally hit home. He realized the panic and fascination he was hearing in his friend's voice was possibly very important. Though he had no clue what Lucille Harewood had to do with anything, he was sure the half Vulcan coincidence was more than just a random the Captain was finally realizing the error in not listening to his medical officer, Bones' voice was angrily blarring through the speakers of the device. "Jim, you infant, stay right there. I swear, don't move. I am not going to play hide and seek with you. Just wait until I explain it, trust me - you're actually going to want to see this."

"Captain, I think he's right," Sulu chimed in. He could understand where Kirk was coming from-he didn't want to waste another moment when it came to getting Pavel back, but McCoy's insistence had to mean something, didn't it? The doctor wasn't an unpractical man, definitely not one to waste time. And Chekov seemed to be one of the people he could tolerate most on the Enterprise. In Sulu's mind, it made no sense for Dr. McCoy to want to delay the mission if it wasn't for something of the utmost importance, and he had a gut feeling that was telling him to stay and listen, if only for a little bit longer.  
_

Running hurriedly through tight ships corridors hadn't been on Bones' list of things to do that day. If only they could transport people from one room to the next with the beaming technology! However, since it benefitted the mission, he would do anything for the Captain - even though he was getting on his nerves today. That was to be expected, however. If Bones was to be forced to think logically - even medically - he would come to the conclusion that the added stress of a missing crew member, plus anxiety over being beamed down to a hostile planet had to be difficult on a person's nerves, let alone their temper.

Still, though, it was aggravating to try and get the kid to listen to him. Bones had spent the better part of the last half hour in the library, trying to dig up anything and everything he could find about Thomas Harewood. Why the scarred man would want his identity to be known, McCoy couldn't say. But he had used the new information to his advantage, and what he had found blew him out of the water. It could provide a whole new outlook on Harewood's character-what he was doing on the planet, what he wanted... and why he had Pavel. It could give Thomas a motive, and Bones knew from old reruns of cop shows he had seen that the motive could sometimes be the most valuable piece of information you could have. Jim, however, just didn't seem to get that.

Bones could clearly see where the captain was coming from. Obviously he would want to get to Chekov as soon as possible, and McCoy had no desire to stop him from doing so. But what he found could possibly help them somehow, and at this point he knew they could use any help they could get. Of course, it was just like Jim to try and decline any assistance from him or anyone else, that was just how he was. But this time Bones was sure that he knew best, and Kirk was just going to have to suck it up and listen to him. So although he was not a man built for tearing through hallways and dodging frustrating slow crewmembers, he found him doing so if only to make sure his friends didn't go down there without as much knowledge they could get.  
The distance from the library to the transporter room was further than he would have liked-it gave Jim too much time to completely disregard his advice and beam down to the planet anyway. Bones spent the entire duration of his run pleading in his mind with the younger man to stay where he was, to refrain from yet another act of idiocy. Somehow, Kirk must have heard him, for he was still in the transporter room with Spock and Sulu when Bones burst in, gasping and clutching a PADD tightly in his hand.

"Took you long enough, old man," Jim remarked, his words sounding like a joke but lacking his usual snide tone. His face was drawn, and he was tapping his foot impatiently. Bones knew Jim was annoyed with him, but at the moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Yeah, well, I'd like to see you do better," Bones spat back, in no mood to play games. "Now take a look at this." He shoved the PADD into Jim's hands, and the man began to scroll through it with much less interest than usual.

"What am I supposed to be looking at, Bones?" he asked dryly, obviously beginning to question McCoy's reasons behind making them late. The doctor stood beside his captain, pointing out the parts of interest which Jim was failing to see.

"These are Thomas Harewood's records from the London Bridge Hospital from about 20 years ago. Apparently he was just going in for some plastic surgery on his ears, and according to protocol, they had to do a full medical analysis before putting him under. His file has everything about him here: height, weight, and species. Turns out Harewood is half-human, half-Vulcan, just like our hobgoblin over there," He gestured towards Spock, who merely nodded his understanding.

"Yeah, we know that. It's weird. So what?" Jim sighed, still not seeming to grasp the point rolled his eyes, wondering how one man could manage to be so difficult to deal with.

"So you remember that sick daughter he's got? She has Vulcan DNA in her, too. But guess who else's blood is in her?"

"Khan's." Spock suddenly spoke up, never having moved from his position on the transport pad. Now, he was slowly pacing forward, a thoughtful look to his dark eyes. "Doctor, I believe I may see the point you are trying to make here."

"Do you? Well that's perfect. If only we could get the Captain on the same page. You should try explaining it to him. Maybe he'll actually listen to you," Bones retorted bitterly, glaring at both Jim and Spock simultaneously. The tension in the room was obvious. Though Jim was being difficult, as usual, Bones understood the underlying reason. It seemed as though today, he was just looking for a fight, ready to go against the man who captured a crew member. It was probably making him go insane to have to stay and wait, not knowing what was going on down on the planet. As much as Bones hated to keep him from his task, he knew this was information worth hearing.

"Bones, I'm sorry. I'm listening. Go on," Jim insisted, weariness and a hint of frustration present in his voice. Apparently the idea of Spock delivering McCoy's news-in full medical terms, no doubt-was something Jim wanted to avoid, and Bones didn't blame him.

"If you do not mind, doctor, I will take it from here." Spock murmured, his lips drawn into a thin line as he slowly paced in thought. Bones thought he saw Jim rolling his eyes, and caught himself from returning the gesture. "You see, Captain, this has everything to do with race, now. Specifically, mine and yours." He paused, seeing the Captain begin to interrupt. Silencing him with a cold look, he continued with his explanation. "There has never been much need for Vulcans and humans to come to any medical crossroads together in the past. In relation, no one has ever found a reason for a test on Augments and their reaction to the Vulcan blood line."

"Now hold on, what are Augments?" Kirk managed to ask, a questioning look in his eyes. This was all a bit frustrating, to be kept so far out of the loop, and to be in such a tight time crunch.

"They are what you might call... enhanced forms of life. They are extremely intelligent. I hate to use the word, but I can only assume that they were programmed once to be hunters, killers. Capable of destroying any form of civilization. These Augments boil down to simple humans when it comes to species, but they are much more than what you would consider to be average."

He knew that the whole room had their eyes on him. Most were confused, wondering how they could have missed the existence of these people for so long. Others were beginning to understand as Spock continued. "They are practically immune to pain. Everything inside of them is strong. Down to their bones, their blood, their life has endurance, stamina - stability, even. They are a species that refuses to die out."

"So how come we haven't heard of them?" Sulu piped up, his brow crinkled in confusion.

"Because they have been frozen inside cryogenic chambers for years. You in fact have encountered them, Mr. Sulu- seventy three of them, to be exact. Only one of their kind has been recently reanimated, one we are all quite familiar with."

"Khan." Kirk's eyes suddenly lit up, the puzzle being put together. "Khan and his crew were Augments. But what does that have to do with Harewood? Or Vulcans?"

"If you will allow me to continue in my explanation, Captain, you will soon see. Now as you recall, Mr. Harewood's daughter Lucille had fallen critically ill shortly before the bombing of Section 31, an act which Mr. Harewood committed under the influence of Khan. He in return had claimed to be able to save his daughter by transfusing a quantity of his blood into her body. This means that his enhanced blood was mixed with Lucilles', which of course contained traces of Vulcan DNA passed down genetically from her father," Spock went on, his impartial tone making the subject sound even more serious than it already was. Bones found himself wishing he could just explain it himself-the way Spock was doing it felt like he was purposely stalling if only to keep them in suspense.

"Okay, so his daughter's got Khan's blood inside her. What happened? Did she get any better?" Kirk pressed him for details, clearly trying to speed up the explanation, something Bones was sure everyone else was grateful for.

"For a short period of time, yes. It seemed to everyone as though the Augment blood had cured Lucille, or at least drastically improved her condition. However, in recent months she has been rapidly decreasing in health, and doctors now have estimated that her life span will not last until the new year," Spock reported, and a silence fell over the group at the news. Although they all hated Thomas Harewood for what he had done to Pavel, the thought of his young daughter, the very person he was trying to save in the first place, dying in a cold hospital room saddened each of them to the core. It wasn't her fault her father was the man he was, and she did not deserve to be held accountable or in disregard for any of his actions.

Bones himself knew what it felt like to have a sick child: his daughter Joanna was diabetic, and in the early years of her life had spent many a day in the hospital undergoing several different forms of treatment. While they knew she would survive, it was still nerve-racking waiting for the tests to be done and to get news on her progress. He could only imagine what it would be like for a parent to be wondering whether or not their child would survive the week, abandoned by the one person they should be able to trust to help them through it. It was enough to send a stabbing sense of pity through his heart. He glanced at Jim quickly, catching the mournful look on his face, before turning his attention back to the first officer.

Spock himself looked unusually disturbed by his own words, but then the logical side of him may have been holding back the full extent of his emotion-Bones could never be sure with that man. The Vulcan took a deep breath before continuing.

"It is believed that the cause of Lucille's deterioration is linked to a clash of Augment and Vulcan blood inside of her. The Augment blood, as you should very well know, Captain, has positive, life-restoring qualities when combined with human blood, as well as in creatures such as Tribbles. However, it seems as though Augment blood does not have the same effect when combined with Vulcan DNA. In fact, it appears that it is the Vulcan blood inside of young Miss Harewood that is not allowing her recovery. Though she was showing signs of improvement at one point, we can only assume that the Vulcan part of her genetics sent antibodies to attack the Augment blood cells."

"So Lucille Harewood... isn't going to get better?" Sulu, always the caring man, sounded pained to say what they were all thinking. He couldn't imagine a little girl experiencing such torment. Here she was, dying in her hospital bed, only to begin to improve. After a month of happiness, possibly one that included her getting out of her bed, fated to be ruined by the supposed death of her father and sudden decline in her health.

"Not unless a cure is developed to treat her specific strand of cancer. The process is made even more difficult by the fact that she is one fourth Vulcan. It is... probable that she will not survive the year, perhaps not even the month," He said this with a sort of finality, as though he didn't want to continue on with this depressing part of the conversation. But as much as it saddened each of them, they knew it was reality, and they could not do anything to stop it from happening. The only thing they could stop was Harewood from hurting Pavel any longer, and Bones knew that was exactly what they intended to do. And in order to accomplish that, they needed to hear this information, whether they wanted to or not.

"So why does he have Pavel? What does our ship have to do with any of this?" Turning, the captain stared pointedly at their man of the hour. He was hoping that, against all odds, their chief medic would know something - anything - that could help them even more.

"Well that - I don't know." Bones' dark eyes were wide with sudden realization. Though his pieces of information were worthwhile... they did nothing to help the situation. With that crippling knowledge, he stepped away from the transport plate and sighed, running his fingers through his short cropped hair. He had honestly thought that this was going to make some sort of sense of their situation, but now that it had been vocally explained, he realized that it was nowhere near the help he thought it was going to be. Raw frustration filled him-after all his insistence that they hear this information first, they were no closer to finding the motive he had promised than they had started with. How could he have been so stupid? Kirk, Spock, and Sulu could have been down on the planet by now, they could have been saving Pavel by now...but they weren't, because Bones had held them back. What a great father figure to the kid he was.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You were the one who said how important this was!" Kirk pointed out, narrowing his eyes perhaps out of reflex. He was obviously angry-and Bones didn't blame him in the slightest.

"I was just going to explain the Vulcan and Augment blood situation in Harewood's daughter to you, I thought we could figure out something from it! Now that I'm hearing it, though…" he trailed off, a pang of shame passing through him.

"It's useless. It doesn't explain anything, Bones! It makes sense, but we can't use any of it, and now we've wasted valuable time!" Jim fumed, his face reddening slightly and his voice rising. Bones looked him square in the eye, itching to say some biting comment but knowing now was not the time or place. Sulu and Spock were no help, the lieutenant watching the scene with what looked like apprehension while the commander appeared lost in thought. Maybe he was making some sort of connection between Lucille's condition and her father's recent actions-Bones hoped if this was the case, he would voice whatever it was soon, to at least get Jim off his back.

"Captain!" Uhura's voice suddenly filled the room over their intercom system, sounding alert and urgent.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Kirk turned his head to the ceiling, as he often did when talking to someone who was not in the room. He closed his eyes, the stress of the past three days finally showing signs of breakage upon his typically collected facade.

"We are back online, sir. All transmissions are up and running functionally."

Raising an eyebrow, Kirk frowned in confusion. "I was not aware that we were offline..." He mused, unaccustomed to being so out of the loop. Things were spiraling out of control so quickly that he could barely adjust to it all.

"There was a block on our technology recently. It just lifted a few minutes ago, actually - we are trying to figure out what happened... However, that's not the important part." In the moment of hesitation that Uhura took to gulp in air, the crew could hear her excitement and anticipation in her actions. Things were hopefully taking a turn - for the better or worse, they did not know. With all of the disappointing news of the day, every mind in the room was focused on wishing for an actual pleasant surprise.

"Captain," Uhura practically panted. "We are receiving another transmission from the planet."

**Author's note: **

**Remind us never to upload from the iPad again. This was stressful and took many attempts. Speaking of stress - school has started again! Our updates will most likely become biweekly or monthly now. Contest winners will be announced when chapter eleven goes up. Feel free to submit more comments to us! We love to read them, with or without the contest going on.**


	11. Chapter 11 - The Fog is Lifted

"Captain Kirk, I see that I have managed to reach you again." The frustratingly calm voice of Thomas Harewood crackled over the ship's transmission. Kirk sat stoically in the captains chair, fingers curled tightly around the arm rests. Though he was trying his hardest to best keep a straight face, the entire ship's crew knew how hard that would be. In the background of the picture was yet again their navigator, sitting upon a bed with his knees pulled to his chest, head down. He didn't look any worse for wear since the last time they had seen him on camera, but there was a broken look to him. It had been close to five days now, and they were quickly running out of time.

"Yes, now that you have oh-so-conveniently removed the block on our transmissions." Kirk growled, ice blue eyes reflecting light with intensity. No longer were conversational and pleasant negotiations on his mind. If he could manage to get Pavel off that planet, he would do it, with or without violence was up to his captor.

"Oh, my dear Captain, surely you don't blame me for that. Are you so unaware of your surroundings?" The man's chocolate colored eyes narrowed as he took in the three crew members dressed in camouflage colored suits, equipped with backpacks for survival. "You had plans to transport without knowing entirely what awaits you? Tsk tsk," he tutted, acting as though he were ashamed. He clucked like a disappointed mother hen, the noise making Jim's skin crawl. "I would have thought you of all people would be slightly more prepared. I suppose I was mistaken."

Leaning back in his chair, Kirk spread his arms wide, looking to be accepting of the information. "Do enlighten us," he commanded, as cocky as always. He was growing rather tired of the games that Harewood was playing.

"I was hoping that at least one of you would have caught onto my little hints... perhaps Mr. Spock?" Raising a pointed eyebrow, Spock twitched his head in the slightest, a hesitant no. He too was unaccustomed to being withheld from knowledge, and it appeared as though everyone one the bridge was getting tired of Harewood's idea of fun. One look around the room revealed faces with muscles tense from worry and stress and annoyance. Harewood was smiling as usual, his lopsided grin even more vicious today.

"Ah, so unprepared. Well, I'll clue you in, then, dear Enterprise crew." the man in question grinned, as though he were amused by the situation, although Kirk had to admit this probably was the case. He was sure the fact that they were almost completely in the dark was satisfying to Harewood; he probably relished in the fact that he had the upper hand. Not only did he have Chekov, but he knew the planet, and this much more than Kirk could say for the Enterprise.

"There was a reason Khan picked this bountiful place to live." Throwing his arms open wide in a gesture of grandeaur, Harewood leaned back and grinned. "Secrecy, my dear captain. Your boy Pavel discovered in less than fifteen minutes how the planet's atmosphere can affect a person. I suppose he's the only crew member who actually noticed the mist - although he did not last long in it. It appears as though the white noise the mist creates causes extreme pain after so long." He shrugged, as though that we no big deal.

Though it was beginning to make sense in small doses, Kirk was tired of hearing about so many things that confused him. First Harewood was a Vulcan-turned-human, and now he was living on a magical planet with some weird headache-causing-mist? It sounded like a fairy tale, or something from those old Harry Potter books he used to study in Classic Literature classes in grade school.

Harewood must have seen the confused crinkle in his forehead, for the man sighed. "It's simple, really. We have a constant mist that covers the surface of our fine planet. This makes living above ground impossible, and gives us plenty of room below ground for laboratory space. I'm not entirely sure what causes this strange weather - that was Khan's choosing, or possibly his own design, but either way, the fact remains that the mist produces a transmission block for both the planet and any ships above. Starfleet was correct under the assumption that Augments had the far better technology. They are so many years in advance, it still manages to astound me. And you have sealed them in cryogenic tubes forever! It seems like such a waste on your part."

Harewood clucked yet again, like a mother disappointed in her child for neglecting chores. Yet the sounds that came from his particular throat were more sinister and evil.

"Khan and his crew were war criminals. They are too dangerous to be awoken. In fact, maybe you should join them," Kirk snarled, his eyes narrowing at the memory of the vengeful Augment. Khan had been a particularly difficult adversary, made even more memorable by the fact that in some ways, he was just like Kirk himself.

Is there anything you would not do for your family?

His words had struck Jim in the heart, because he knew the answer-he had lived and died the answer. He knew with every fiber in his being that he would whatever he needed to do to keep his family safe, and right now he was failing in his sworn duty to do so. Harewood's mention of Khan just made it even more clear in Kirk's mind that he would stop at nothing to make sure that Pavel returned to their ship, unscathed. Unfortunately, it seemed as though that was not an option anymore. Not only did he seem to be in some sort of physical harm, but now it was as though it would be impossible to get him off of the planet, what with the mist.

"If I may interject, Captain." Stepping forward slowly, Spock narrowed his eyes quizzically. "I was wondering how exactly you are contacting us, Mr. Harewood. If this so called mist does indeed do what you say it does, should it not be blocking our transmissions even now?"

Harewood chuckled, a disturbing sight, considering only half of his face showed the mirth he found in the question. "You see, that is the only problem I have with our wonderful planet. The mist is only lifted for one hour a day. When that hour will occur during the day constantly changes."

"So you're saying-" Kirk started, the frustration in his voice obvious.

"Yes, Captain. What I'm saying is that I have essentially used up your hour for communications. I would apologize for being so rude, but as it was my intention, I feel no need to. And as much as you would love to use this opportunity to beam down, I know that you honestly cannot risk that."

"And why is that? Tell us what is keeping us from coming down there to kick your ass right now!" Kirk spat, leaning forward in his chair, as if it would bring him closer to the screen.

"Why don't I just show you, Captain," From under the screen, Harewood's arm twitch, moving across his own control screen. As the camera zoomed out, Kirk found himself looking for Pavel in the background. He was sitting quietly, curled into a ball as he had been before. The eyes of the Enterprise crew were glued to the screen, watching as Harewood sauntered towards what appeared to be the boy's cell. Pavel looked up slowly, confusion evident in his face as Harewood led him towards the camera at the control panel.

With a sickly smile, Harewood put his hands on either of Pavel's shoulder, shoving him roughly into the seat at the control panel. The anger in his eyes seemed dull, as though he were afraid to look even slightly rebellious. The room was silent on both sides, not a word uttered over the transmission. Everyone was staring at the screen as though watching what was going on would somehow prevent it from happening. Kirk could feel the fear mounting up inside of him, almost weighing him down. Pavel obviously seemed surprised at what was happening, almost scared, and Kirk knew from this that the boy didn't have more of a clue as to what was going on as the rest of them did.

From somewhere off of the side of the screen, presumably from his pocket, Harewood withdrew his hand. Clutched in his thick fingers was a flash of silver metal, and Kirk found it suddenly hard to breathe. If he was any good at predicting, as he typically was, he knew what was going to happen next. It was as if everything were happening in slow motion. Or, rather, it was as if Harewood was moving sluggishly on purpose, to build the suspense of his audience. With every small motion, the Captain felt his anger growing. As Harewood flicked the knife out of his switchblade, he brought it to the young navigator's neck, the gleam in his eye as bright as the reflection of light that was shining off of the knife.

"Pavel, as you can see, we have some guests who have overstayed their welcome," Thomas sneered, his hand steady as he held the knife just under the Russian's jaw. "I think it's time we moved on from the initial hospitality we've shown them, don't you agree?" He leaned down, punching a few buttons on the control panel. "Here comes the fun part, Captain, I think you'll enjoy this." Harewood looked up into the screen, as though he were an excited child, just waiting to show off his new invention. In this case, however, it would be an invention that could possibly cause mass destruction.

It was as if he could see the question in everyone's eyes. "I am making absolutely certain that you will stay on your ship, and everyone here will remain on my planet." He answered the unspoken inquiry with a wicked grin. "If you make any hostile moves against us, you will deeply regret it. I am ordering your dear Pavel here," at this, he looked down at the navigator, whose wide eyes met his. "To shoot down your ship the moment you make any kind of movement. If he values his life," Harewood pressed the knife tighter to the pale throat it rested upon, the tension in his skin obvious. The panic in Pavel's eyes was now unhidden and pure, and he looked as though he was holding back a sob. Kirk was certain he had never seen someone so frightened before in his life. "He will do what I say. If you value _his_ life - and the life of the rest of your crew - you will obey my orders, as well. Do we understand each other?"

Harewood grabbed Pavel by the nape of his neck and turned his head in the direction of the screen, so that the bridge crew could clearly see the tears welling in his eyes. He was trying his hardest to be strong, they could tell. The sight turned Kirk's blood chill, though a fire was brewing in his heart. He could hear the intake of breath from Uhura. He could see the glistening liquid ready to spill from the eyes of just a boy, a young crew member who did not deserve this kind of treatment. He could feel his own hatred, pure and unchanging, growing in his heart.

"Yes." He managed to seeth through clenched teeth. "I hear you, loud and clear. Now what do you need to talk about?" He couldn't understand why Harewood was drawing this out. It was obvious that he wanted to start something, but he was holding back on giving them any kind of demands.

"I believe some negotiations are in order. We have remained in the same situation for days now, with no possible solution in the near future. I had been hoping you would get bored and contact me first, but I suppose I_ do_ have the cards in my hand." He let out a long sigh that sounded impossibly happy. It sent a shoved down the spine of every crew member on the bridge.

"What do you want, Harewood?" Kirk jumped straight to the point, fed up with playing the waiting game with this madman any longer. He could barely stand to sit there in the captains chair, just watching as Pavel was being held against his will, left in the hands of a man who may very well have had every intention of killing him, or anyone else on their ship. Eighteen was nowhere near old enough to handle something like this. Eighteen was not old enough to have to deal with either the physical or emotional scars of being held captive.

"Yes, that is the question, isn't it? What you've been dying to know ever since I appeared in your lives, isn't that right? Well I suppose I ought to tell you now that you're all here to stay. You've waited long enough, you poor patient souls. And so have I," There was a pause, a beat to the let the last words sink in. He was teasing them, yet again, adding suspense to the moment. _He would have made a great actor._ Kirk thought bitterly. "I want the coordinates to the location of Khan and the other Augments." He finally let it slip, the words taking effect the second they were in the air.

All pretense was suddenly gone from his voice, as though Harewood suddenly decided to drop the theatrics as well. Kirk was taken aback by this rapid change, but remained impassive to it, instead focusing on the demand.

"They're frozen, Harewood. Sound asleep forever in cryotubes. They don't really make fun party invites. What would you want them for?" Jim smirked in return, a vain attempt at humor to mask the fear still dominant in his mind.

"Well not while they are _frozen_. I would have thought you were more astute than that, dear captain. I plan on reviving Khan once more," He let yet another second pass, grinning at the astounded reactions. "He is as valuable to me now as I once was to him. I cannot finish my work without him and his... special qualities."

"You want his blood." Bones piped up, sounding incredulous. Kirk turned to look at him for a moment, his eyes meeting the older man's, a tidal wave of understanding beginning to crash over him. Maybe Bones' new information wasn't such a waste after all…

"My, how intelligent of you, doctor." Harewood leered, with a grin, sounding almost amused. "Yes, I do want his blood. He did not give my daughter enough to keep her stable. I suppose his supercharged blood works more effectively on fully aged humans." He looked pointedly at Kirk, as though blaming him for his daughter's decline in health.

Bones had been about to retort, tell Harewood where exactly he was wrong with his theory, when the PDA in his hand lit up with a notification. Or, rather, everyone on the bridge was suddenly getting a message on their console screens. Glancing over towards the captain, he caught Jim's fingers tapping at the screen of his own PDA, finishing whatever message he was trying to send. If they hadn't been on camera, Bones would have berated him for his terrible choices. He had to admit the man was good at messging out of view of the camera, able to keep his eyes focused on Harewood rather than at what he was writing, but didn't he realize that getting caught could put everyone's life in danger?

Harewood wasn't stupid- surely he would notice everyone looking at their screens. Bones was pleading with his mind for everyone to be discrete, especially since the message was dangerous itself. A quick glance at his screen showed what the captain had wrote - a plea for anyone who could to slip out of the bridge and contact Starfleet before they ran out of time. Harewood had revealed vital information, and they needed someone to relay what they had found out back to headquarters before it was too late.

It was an ensign who made the first move. She was barely out of the academy, probably only assigned to the Enterprise bridge crew for a small task. Perhaps she was working down in engineering with Scotty, and he had sent her up to ask a question, or transfer information. Reasons aside, she had been caught on the deck when the transmission came in. It made sense that she would want to be the first off. Perhaps she thought that she had something to prove, by saving the day, by doing something brave. Whatever the explanation was, she was the first to step to the door, and hardly anyone on the bridge even knew her name.

The door had hardly recognized an officer trying to pass through before Pavel let out a noise of surprise and sudden pain. The grip that Harewood had on his shoulder tensed, fingers pressing down hard enough to turn his fair skin bright red. Thankfully, he hadn't put pressure on the hand holding the knife to the navigator's throat. However, it was obvious that things had taken a turn for the worse. Yet again, Kirk could predict what was going to happen - as Harewood had outlined it in their agreements.

"Pavel," Harewood's voice was smooth, most calm in the way his name spilled from his mouth. Yet there was an extreme amount of rage boiling through him. "Remind your captain of our terms."

"No," the boy uttered, his voice nothing more than a plea. "No, please, you cannot make me do zis... I cannot do zis…" His eyes shifted from Harewood to the controls and back again, the tears spilling now and making shaking tracks down his face.

"I am nothing of not a man of my word. Kirk did not uphold his end of the deal, and therefore there is no reason as to why I should keep mine," Harewood insisted, shrugging slightly, as if it was a minor inconvenience to him. "Now put your hands on the controls and fire on that ship, Mr. Chekov." He demanded, this time adjusting his fingers on the handle of the blade, threateningly.

"Please!" Pavel shouted, the words filled to the brim with a desperation Kirk was certain they all were feeling. Why had he been so stupid? He knew it was a long shot, sending out a message like that, especially with so many scarcely trained officers still on the bridge. And yet he had done it, because he was so confident being the James Kirk that defied logic, the captain that broke all the right rules at the right time. But this time was different-he had agreed to terms he had known from the start he was going to break, believing that he could get away with it as he usually did. He had underestimated Harewood's resolve, and now he had put Pavel in a position Kirk knew he himself wouldn't have been able to handle.

"Mr. Chekov, I am not going to tell you again," he snarled, the sharp edge of his blade digging into flesh. If he moved a centimeter, he could be left with a fatal wound. "I would hate to teach your captain a lesson by killing you. Now, _do as I ask_."

The reluctance on his face was played out just as well as the fear, confusion, and pain. The tears could have been caused by anything, but something in his eyes told Kirk if was more than just the pain. It wasn't only the red line forming across his neck, the bruises on his shoulder, the various other evident injuries - or any of those that could be hidden. It was the trauma of going through a hostage situation - as the hostage, to make it worse. It was the fear of never going home, never getting back to the life he once had. It was the fact that he was being told to bring the people he loved to harm.

Jim hated to see a man cry, and it broke his heart even more to hear the wracking sobs that came from Pavel's throat. He was gulping in air, chest heaving, obviously trying to stop himself from being loud. He was trying to control his crying, and he couldn't bring himself to. His eyes connected with the Captain's, and Jim couldn't help but think of how this was his fault. If he hadn't had sent that message. If he hadn't berated Chekov for something he couldn't help - being young. If he had been the man that the late Captain Pike had always wanted him to be. If he had filled his father's shoes and followed in his footsteps, maybe he would have been able to save his crew. If he hadn't had been so cocky about always being the hero - well, the list could go on.

"I'm so sorry , Keptin." The young ensign managed to choke out before he sent a missile straight at the Enterprise.

**Author's Note: **

**Hello everyone, here we are at the end of another chapter! We thought we should announce the winners of our little contest! We saw some great comments, and we have decided on a three-way tie between **_n1h1|4dr3m_**_, _**_Snowflake Kisses_**_, and _**_Satin Ragdoll_**! Their one shots will be posted on my Fanfiction account as soon as they are ready to be published. Thanks to everyone for commenting, and we urge you to continue to show your support! Thank you! **

**We're so sorry for the cliff hangers (they're in practically every chapter) but we just love to post. We hope you enjoy this update. We're taking our whole long weekend to keep updating. Keep an eye out for new chapters, there should be one coming up soon. Thank you all again for reading and reviewing. **


	12. Chapter 12 - Wants and Needs

**Here's a semi-long chapter, because we love you.**

**~Marcelle and Val**

The captain curled his pale fingers around the armrest of his chair, the need to hold onto something to keep him grounded pertinent. Their shields were up at one hundred percent, but after one hit, they were down to seventy four. The impact of the explosion rocked the ship in the slightest, but no damage had occured. A few more hits, and they could be faced with no protection left and a very scary hostage situation. Of course, Kirk did not plan on subjecting his ship and his navigator to anything of the sort. He was not taking those kinds of risks anymore-or at least, not right now. Luckily, being the genius that he was, Pavel had aimed towards the part of the ship that would sustain the least damage, the garbage disposal area of the ship.

A small portion of the ship, it would have had no lives lost had their shields been down. Of course, that was what Pavel had been aiming for, he supposed. The garbage disposal area was basically a small room at the very bottom of the ship, where any particle of waste was sent. There were chutes and tubes leading down to the garbage disposal, dropping everything unnecessary there. The room wasn't manned by anyone. In fact, the captain could check on the room levels from the con, and never have to even go near it all. They didn't think about it until the end of every mission, when they went back to the dock, where routine ship checks would occur and the garbage disposal room would be emptied.

Though tears were still falling from the young man's eyes, trailing down his red cheeks, there was a smirk across his thin lips. Kirk had to sit back in his seat, a look of awe upon his face. He had no clue if the crying had been an act, to make it believable to Harewood that he was just a bad shot and had aimed wrong. Perhaps it hadn't been acting at all, his pain was all from the inside. Whatever the case, he knew that the young ensign had purposefully sent a missile towards the garbage disposal, to minimize any chance for damage.

There was a collective breath being let out by the crew. Though there were undoubtedly many people running around below deck, wondering what had just happened, no one came bursting into the con to ask questions. The negotiations were still going on, full fledged now. The wicked grin of excitement had been wiped from Harewoods face, and his grip on Chekov's shoulder had him wincing in pain, wriggling in an attempt to escape from his grasp. The only thing that Thomas Harewood could manage to spit, through gritted teeth, was a fake attempt at concern. "Is everyone alright, Captain?" He asked, eyes narrowing to slits and eyebrows drawn down in anger.

Kirk took a moment to look around the bridge, taking in the looks of confusion and awe. Bones had his eyebrows arched in surprise, but was focused on the look of pain on their crewmember's face. He was trying to gage the amount of physical damage being done by just looking, no doubt. Uhura had stood from her position at the console, hands covering her mouth, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Kirk knew this was particularly hard on the communications officer, as she had essentially been separated from the only person she considered to be a son to her. He wanted to be able to comfort her, but he knew that to be more of Spock's duty, although whether or not he would realize it was yet to be seen. The Vulcan had his gaze locked on the screen, no more emotion across his features than was usual.

"Yes, it appears everyone is fine. Thank you for your concern," Kirk turned back to make eye contact with his adversary. Though he felt the need to stare the man down, he couldn't help but keep looking at Pavel. He had never known how brave the boy was. To be forced to carry out dastardly orders from an enemy was one thing. To find a loophole and try to save the lives of many, though his own was in jeopardy, was another. And to think that it had been hardly any time since Jim had considered Pavel incapable of coming along on a negotiation mission. His entire view on the young man had only been heightened-the captain didn't know any other men who would have the courage, intelligence, or sheer skill to do what Chekov could, and Kirk only wished he could have seen that much sooner than he had. He wished even more than Pavel hadn't needed to display his intelligence in the first place-and he wouldn't have had it not been for Jim's own stupid actions.

"Of course, Captain. It was quite lucky for you that you were hit in such a non vital area," Harewood growled, accenting the last few words and glaring pointedly at Chekov. After a moment of awkward silence, filled with menacing glares from Harewood, he looked back at the captain of the Enterprise. "Has my message gotten through to you despite our difficulties, Captain?"

"I don't understand why you want the blood, Harewood. What is it going to do for your daughter?" Kirk replied, leaning back in his chair and trying to regain some of the cockiness back into his voice. He assumed that he had Lucy on his mind, but Kirk had figured Harewood would have already figured out that Khan's blood did not react well with Vulcan blood.

"Oh, Mr. Kirk. You really have so much to learn, don't you? I can hardly see why you would care about such trivial matters when you have Pavel here to think about."

Slowly, Harewood pulled his hand away from Pavel's neck. As the knife slipped off of his skin, a line of blood appeared, dripping slowly towards the collar of his uniform shirt. Reaching up with a shaking hand, Pavel's thin fingers wiped at the wound. He pulled his hand away, taking in the sticky red fluid covering his fingers, and his face crumpled. He seemed just as angry as anyone else to see what had happened to him. Grimacing, he prodded again at the small cut. It was not deep, nor fatal, but it seeped a message of what was to come. Obviously, Harewood had been expecting him to have better aim. His choice to display such loyalty for the Enterprise was a bad move in the eyes of Thomas Harewood.

"The last half of our hour is winding down to a close, Captain. I recommend listening to my terms, for you may not be as... fortunate as you were last time." His hold on Pavel's shoulder tightened as he gave him a slight shake. His curly hair bounced from the force, a few strands of brunette locks falling in front of his eyes, masking the hatred in his glance as he glared up at his captor. "You don't need to know anything about my reasons for wanting Khan. That was information I had no intention of sharing. Yet now you know my reasonings, I must ask you - is there anything you would not do for your family?" Harewood was staring the captain down, knowing he had him pinned. Using the man's own emotionally to play against him was a strategy he found useful. Had he been talking to someone of his own species, a man like Spock, he would have to work harder to get to him. With Captain Kirk, he could easily pull at his heartstrings and offer a little bit of give and take to get his way.

"I need to save my daughter, Kirk. If you had a child of your own, you would understand." He hissed, his own raw emotion escaping into the conversation. Though it was part of his strategy to prey on the Captain's kindness as much as possible, he hadn't ever meant to show his own vulnerability. Just thinking about Lucy made his heart clench, fear boiling into his blood. He needed to save her. If he couldn't get Khan revived and functioning enough to give a blood transplant, possibly even offere his own medical expertise, then little Lucille would never reach her thirteenth birthday.

"If you gave half of your genetics to a child, if you watched her grow up to be a beautiful young woman, if you had to stand by as she became independent and versed on the ways of the world... Had you watched the baby you made turn into a tiny adult, a living and breathing miracle..." He seemed lost, trapped in the memories of his life back on Earth with his family. He inhaled loudly, trying to clear his mind. "If you were a father yourself, Captain, you would not condone me for stopping at nothing to ensure that my daughter lives a long and healthy life." He spat out the last sentence of his speech with an angry finality to his voice that made Kirk blink in surprise. He would have never thought Harewood to show this side of himself. He would have never thought that his own enemy would make him dig down into his heart and actually consider things from the perspective of a father.

Though Kirk had met Bones' daughter Joanna, he had never talked to the medical officer about what it was like to be a parent. Many times, he found himself wondering what kind of father he would be while he was nursing a drink after a long day. When it came to the topic of marriage, of a future with a family, his thoughts were drawn to his own father. He had been selfless, determined to save the life of the son he had never gotten to meet, though it cost him his own existence. Many people had told him what a brave man his father was, but he would have wanted to know him personally. How different would his childhood have been if he had had a father figure in his life, a man he was genetically connected to, to care for him. He had a stepfather, but it was not that same. He was never given a chance to have that one basic human experience, of a family.

That was one of the reasons he often thought about being a father. He knew, planned or not, that he would be there for a child that was his own. Though he had promiscuous tendencies, the captain couldn't help but fantasize about the dream family he could have. A wife who loved him, a house with a picket fence, a toddler stumbling about in the yard, another baby in his arms. He wanted to be a great man to fill his own father's shoes. At the same time, he wanted to be a great dad to make a son or daughter proud. Thinking about that perfect life in his mind, he tried to picture it differently. Instead of whitewash fence, a sterilized white room in a hospital. A wife under the stress of severe worry, a baby slowly deteriorating in front of his eyes as a sickness took control of their life and sent it into a downward spiral.

Shaking out of the nightmarish thought, he stared hard at Harewood. Perhaps it was the intense scarring, or the Vulcan background, but Kirk could barely pick up the hints of emotion in the mans face. This was a man broken down over time, cracked under the duress that an ill family member put him under. Yes, Jim Kirk could understand stopping at nothing to save the life of his child. His heart was torn-he knew what was morally right, and also what his soul told him was good intent. Though Harewood should have never been in this position, should have waited for treatment on the ever-long donor list, Kirk understood why he teamed up with Khan. He didn't want to say that it was reasonable, that it made sense to him - but it did. Would he have done the same if he were in that position? He couldn't be sure, but his track record of brash action showed a pattern he could not deny. He would have came up with a way to save his child, plain and simple, which was exactly what Harewood had done.

His training told him that though he understood the man, he could not sympathize or show any signs of mercy. Harewood had gone much too far for him to simply brush him aside as a conflicted father. Now, this man was an enemy of Starfleet, and it was Kirk's job to take him out. Just like he had Khan. And if it meant dying again, well...it would be worth it, because Pavel was worth it. Any one of them would have been worth it to him, because they were his family. As much as Kirk fantasized about settling down with a wife, he knew that his crew was the family he had dreamed of, the people that would unconditionally love him. He didn't need a picket fence as long as he had them-he just wished it hadn't taken a kidnapping to put that into perspective.

"Here is what I propose, Kirk," Harewood did not wait for an answer on the captain's behalf, and honestly, Kirk was grateful for this. He wouldn't have known how to respond-his emotions, his morals...everything was thrown into a frenzy because of this man, and Jim couldn't vocalize it until he had figured it out himself. "You give me the coordinates of Khan and his crew, and I will give you your little Russian back in exchange. We can make this very simple indeed, Captain, but it is your decision. I only hope you will make the right one."

"You're just assuming that I know the coordinates?" Kirk questioned, folding his arms across his chest. They were currently in a very tricky situation. Though the Captain was aware of the coordinates of the planetthat Khan was kept on (every Starfleet captain was told to steer clear of it by law) he couldn't just go around, giving them out to every evil villain who asked for them. However, he was determined to save Pavel, and this might be his only chance. The logical part of his brain told him to contact Starfleet and call in for help, but he knew Harewood would find out if he did so-and he would take it out on Pavel, or once again on the Enterprise itself. The mist prevented them from beaming down, and even though it was not active right now, they obviously could not send anyone down if if they wanted to. They couldn't let anyone leave the bridge without Harewood noticing, and they probably wouldn't be able to send any forms of communication to Starfleet surreptitiously enough. Harewood had them trapped on their own ship, and he was taking as much of an advantage of the situation as he could.

"The Enterprise played the most pivotal in Khan's downfall, in fact you could say that you did all of the work cleaning up Admiral Marcus' mess. You would be the first Starfleet would turn to if something were to happen with the Augments again, however unlikely. Of course you would know the coordinates, I am certain that you do. Do not test me, Captain. Do not make this more difficult than it must be." His voice was calm, almost as though he were trying to sooth the captain with hushed tones. Perhaps he had hoped to be convincing. No matter the reason, Kirk found it disturbing how gentle his adversary was being with him. He had seen the destruction that that man could cause, and there was no way he could ever let his guard down enough to trust him.

"So what if I did have the coordinates you're after?" Kirk challenged, voice rising in rebellious tones. "Who says I would hand them over to you? That's a high profile subject you're looking into. According to Starfleet regulations, whether or not I did have the coordinates, I couldn't just simply give them to you without a fuss."

"Oh, but Captain Kirk, there has most definitely been a fuss." At this, he gave Pavel's shoulder another squeeze, and the navigator winced. It almost looked like a fatherly gesture, to put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, yet there was nothing supportive in the movement. "Is it really worth it to withhold this information from me when there is so much on the line for both of us?"

"There's no guarantee you'll hold up your end of the deal, Harewood," Kirk reasoned, narrowing his eyes.

"And you have proved to be just as trustworthy as well," Thomas shot back without a moments hesitation. "After your little display of arrogance I have no confidence in you either, Mr. Kirk. But still I offer you this one last chance. Should you choose not to comply I will be left with no other option but to, ah, dispose of your navigator. I daresay you will have a difficult time filling his place."

The gravity of the words slammed down on Kirk, a sensation much like he had felt in the warp core filling every inch of him. He had to give Harewood the coordinates. He had to, or the baby of the ship was going to die before he'd even had a chance to live. There was no way Kirk was going to let that happen, not if he could help it. And he knew he could help it. He had the information Harewood wanted literally in the palm of his hand, he could give it to him in seconds and be done with it. Pavel would be back and safe with them and he would never again have to worry about if he was going to survive the day, or if he would have to hurt the people he loved. It could all be solved with a few numbers, by pressing a few buttons. It seemed so easy... so why was Kirk still sitting there, debating with himself as usual?

Because this was against Starfleet protocol. Everything they were doing was getting him another step closer to being demoted-again. Kirk tried to convince himself of this, tried to get him to believe his own words. He couldn't give Harewood the coordinates because Starfleet would not allow it. But he knew even as he thought it that this was not the case. When had he ever cared about Starfleet regulation when the lives of his crew were on the line? Pike had once said that Jim didn't respect the chair, but he hadn't seen him when Spock was in the volcano. He hadn't seen him when the Enterprise was seconds away from destruction. And he couldn't see him now. If Christopher Pike had just once seen Kirk at moments like these, he might have thought differently.

Kirk had complete faith that Pike would do the same thing, had he ever been faced with the choices Jim was. His problem was not that he didn't respect the chair. It was that he respected it too much. Kirk respected his position as captain too much to keep it at the cost of a boy's life. It didn't matter to him if he was demoted or if Starfleet didn't want him at all after this (the latter seeming the more realistic option) as long as he saved the lives of his crew and returned them home safely, with everyone aboard. To him, being captain wasn't about being in charge or following every rule and regulation. It meant being a leader, a man who was fearless in the face of danger. A captain should be able to take leaps of faith, to stop at nothing to protect his ship. Sacrificing his life for the people he held most dear was not a hard decision to make, it was practically instinct. He knew as captain that this was expected of him - that was the standard that he held himself to. He looked up to the men who offered their lives for their line of work, no questions asked. He strove to be as great as his father had been, as Captain Pike had been. But he wasn't sure if he would be able to reach that goal now, not with the choice he was faced with. How did you decide between the world, or the little brother who was your world?

"No one _could_ take his place…" Kirk murmured, more to himself than to anyone else around him. His head was spinning, his thoughts a blur. He couldn't just give up on his prize navigator, the young mathematics prodigy. At the same time, if he gave the coordinates to Harewood, he would revive Khan, who would be more hell-bent than ever to stick to the path of destruction. Together, the two could cause universal chaos. Add in the fact that Khan can't exactly die, thanks to his super-charged blood, and you've got an endless reign of terror. Yet someone more important was sitting in front of him, blue eyes wide in fear, and Kirk was forced to admit that as impervious as Khan was, Pavel was not immortal. Every second he wasted thinking about it was a second closer that the young kid was to his death, and the Captain wasn't sure if he would be able to stop the clock.

"Time is slipping away from you, Captain," Harewood hissed, as though reading his thoughts, an excited gleam in his eye as he leaned in towards the screen, half of his mouth pulled up in his signature, sinister grin. "I am not a patient man. What will it be, Mr. Kirk? Your Russian..." at this, his grip on Pavel's shoulder tightened to the point of unbearable pain. Pavel jerked back, eyes shut tight, gasping as he tried not to cry out. "For the coordinates to my companion." He smirked. "The choice should be easy for you."

"I suppose that marks our differences then, doesn't it? Unlike you, the life of one is worth the lives of a thousand, to me." Kirk narrowed his eyes, his tone of voice gravelly as the pressure of the situation bore down on him. He was finally feeling the stress begin to break him. He could only imagine how Pavel felt, which made his decision even more difficult. He knew the boy would claim, if Kirk were to choose Khan over him, that it would be fine. That it was for the best, that he knew it was better to save many lives than his own. Khan could cause mass destruction. Yet to abandon his navigator would destroy his very being. He believed that no man would ever be left behind or come to harm as long as he could help it. Giving away the coordinates to unleash Khan... that was deadly. This was the hardest decision of his career that he would ever have to make, and he was stuck.

The conflicted man took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly on an exhale. He clenched the armrests of his chair, closed his eyes, and nodded once. "Alright, Harewood. You want coordinates, you've got them," He muttered, eyelids blinking open to reveal his electric eyes dulled by weariness.

"Captain, what are you attempting to accomplish from this?" Spock stepped forward from his position at the console, hands folded primly behind his back. Though the man was typically without any sort of emotion, there was a confusion spread across his face. His pointed eyebrows were raised, dark eyes flickering with what almost looked to be like panic. For the first time that day, Kirk found himself considering what his first officer made of all this. Though he typically consulted with the Vulcan, he didn't think to even hesitate to take the time to ask for his opinion in this matter; he assumed that his friend would agree with him wholeheartedly. Seeing the frustration in Spock's gaze brought another point to the captain's mind: what Spock had gone through with Khan he would never want to happen again.

Thinking back to that time caused Kirk pain in memories. He had heard of Spock's bravery and determination when it came to attacking to Augment, and essentially capturing him in the end to be able to take a blood sample. It was thanks to Spock that Kirk was still alive and breathing, after the miracle serum from Khan's super blood worked in restoring him back to health. Kirk owed Spock his very life, and they both knew it. Spock, however, had never acted as though Jim were indebted to him-in fact, the matter was avoided entirely when possible. And now, when Spock's advice would be needed the most, Kirk hadn't even asked for his opinion, and could have unknowingly sentenced his first officer to live his worst nightmare all over again. First his mother, then his best friend had died right before his eyes. Even though Kirk had come back, there still must have been scars from witnessing something like that, no matter how hidden on his heart they might have been. For all they knew, Pavel could be next, and Kirk honestly wasn't sure if Spock would be able to get through another death of someone close to him.

"I don't know, Spock. I don't," he admitted through a sigh, putting a hand to his forehead. "I guess I just... I can't lose him. I won't lose him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did." He admitted, fingertips running over the seemingly permanent creases etched in his brow. He hadn't been able to wipe the concern off of his face for days now, and it was beginning to show.

"If you give Harewood the coordinates you are not only breaking Starfleet code, but unleashing a powerful force back into civilization," Spock reasoned, his voice rushed and almost carrying a hint of desperation. He clearly was trying to talking his captain out of the decision, and Kirk almost found himself wishing he would succeed. He wanted Spock to choose for him, so he wouldn't have to, a weak moment of cowardice that James immediately felt shame for. He couldn't force this on someone else-he was the captain, and he had to decide. But now, just when he thought he had made up his mind, Spock was challenging him, just as he always did when Kirk thought he had it together.

"I know, I know, but if we don't he's going to kill Chekov-"

"Captain." This time, it was not Spock who was cutting him off. In fact, it was no one aboard the Enterprise. Kirk looked up to see Pavel's eyes lifting from the floor, slowing finding his in the glow of the screen. "My life is not worth everyone else's. Please, sir, you cannot step aside and watch him bring Khan back. I do not mean to sound forward, but I zimply cannot let zis happen. I do not want to be the reason for his return. _Please_. Do not give him ze coordinates."

It was the most selfless act of courage that Kirk had seen to date. Though he hadn't doubted that the ensign was a brave young fellow, it surprised him how willing he was to give up his life for the lives of others. For a moment, the Captain had to wonder if this was him giving up. Had Harewood's torture become too much? Was he willing to say whatever it took to keep the others safe, because he no longer cared for his own life? The pride he felt in the boy was so immense that it made his heart ache. His head was pounding as he considered what exactly the ensign had begged him to do. Chekov was basically telling Kirk to let him die. He was insisting that the captain should leave him behind with Harewood, whom he knew full well would kill him if the Enterprise did not do what he asked. And yet he didn't seem to care about himself anymore. Kirk silently cursed himself and boy, knowing that Pavel's hero-worshipping of him must have rubbed off, but not in the way Jim wanted.

Yet... for the first time in his entire history, Kirk was considering what it would be like to leave a crew member behind.


	13. Chapter 13 - Negotiations

The minute he said the words, he knew he meant them. He knew that it was what he had to do. He had been exhausted for days now, his body and mind too tired to function properly. It seemed as though the entire world had forsaken him. Every day he was subject to a beating by Harewood, and more let downs from the Enterprise. No one could get him out of here, and from what he knew about his captor, he wasn't going to be let go without a fight. So it seemed to Pavel Chekov that there was only one more option - to simply give up.

Though he didn't really want to, he couldn't help but feel the need to finally stop. His life was literally out of his control, his entire being held in the grasp of one sadistic man. The only way to relinquish his hold was to finally refuse to comply. His spirits were downtrodden, his thoughts depressed and melodramatic. He was ready to let nature take its course. He never thought of himself as a hero, but now he was willing to be one. His life for the lives of thousands - it sounded like a fair trade to only thing that was causing him to doubt his reasoning was the look on Captain Kirk's face.

The man looked heartbroken, lost, confused-an expression Chekov had hardly even seen adorned on his face before. Even the last time Pavel had seen Kirk before his climb to the warp core, he had not been this broken. He had then been drawn and closed, determined and alert. Though he was facing dangers untold and hardships unnumbered then, he had managed to go through it while keeping a brave face. This is what Pavel himself was trying to do. He lifted his chin, meeting the eyes of his captain, hoping that they did not reveal the sorrow he was hiding inside. He was trying to keep it in, he was trying so hard... but he knew it wasn't good enough, on account of the tears still leaking from the faucets that had become his eyes.

"Keptin." He started again, voice hoarse and shaky. Pausing to let out a little cough to clear his throat, he was hyper aware of the hand on his shoulder, clammy hands sticking to his skin. He resisted the urge to shrug away, but instead made sure to keep eye contact with captain Kirk. "Zis is a very hard decision." He murmured slowly, trying to blink away the tears without looking like a sobbing child. "But zis is what any respectable Starfleet officer would do." As he said it, he seemed to straighten his back imperceptibly; the very thought of being recognized as a good soldier made him feel proud. "Zis is what we have to do. Khan cannot be unleashed upon ze world. His coordinates should stay a secret." he said, with all the finality he could muster.

"Pavel…" Kirk murmured, looking straight into the younger's eyes. The navigator resisted a very strong urge to cry out, resulting in a quiet whimper to die in his throat. Pavel could tell by the way Jim's face crumbled that he had picked up on the sound, but was choosing not to acknowledge it, for which he was grateful. "I just can't get rid of you, kid. I can't leave you here with him. He'll kill you…" The man trailed off, but Pavel didn't need him to continue-nor did he want him to, for that matter.

"I know, sir," he admitted, using a formality he knew the situation certainly didn't call for, but was hard to drop after so long. He jutted out his chin, pulling his lower lip in in a nervous habit. He bit down, hoping the slight pain would keep his tears at bay. He was trying his hardest to seem like a man. If there was one thing he wanted Captain Kirk to see him as before he died, he hoped that the Captain would no longer consider him a boy too young for the world. He had his heart set on finally being seen as someone who deserved to be on the bridge. At the thought of his place at the console, filled by a temporary ensign, his lip quivered. He wanted so badly to be back home, to be reunited with his crew - his family - once again. This decision was the hardest to make, and he knew that there was no going back. Sweeping his eyes are the screen, he attempted to memorize every inch of the Enterprise bridge. Wherever he went in the afterlife, he wanted to keep those images and pleasant thoughts to look back upon.

"This is what we must do." He insisted, nodding once as he stared into the Captain's equally blue eyes. He couldn't tell what the older man was thinking, what this conversation meant to him. He only knew how this was affecting himself. His mind was a blur, thoughts rushing about in random order. What was he supposed to think at a time like this? Half of him was full of remorse, memories passing in front of his eyes of things he had done wrong, including the sudden leap from the Enterprise into Harewood's open arms. The other half of his mind was trying its hardest to be selfless, to think of this as a martyrdom. He was searching inside of himself, trying to find some way to make this situation feel better in his heart. Yet all he could figure out clearly was one cohesive thought: I am not ready to die.

He had to be honest with himself: he was terrified at the thought of dying. Or, not as much the thought of dying itself as much as how it would come about. Harewood was already visibly furious with him for his little act of twisting orders around earlier, and now he was about to be given permission to make good on the threat that had been hanging over Pavel's head for days. It was sure to be painful, with agony that was likely to be drawn-out, meant to make him pay. To make them all pay, a small revenge against the starship Enterprise. Chekov could only hope that Harewood wouldn't do it in the view of the full crew. To put the people he loved through something even more awful than they were already going through the was the last thing he wanted for them. He didn't want them to the see the truth of the matter-that he was afraid to die. He didn't want to leave them yet, but he could see no other way out. He would rather be erased from the planet than going down in history as the man who was the sole cause of Harewood accessing the coordinates to unlock the most deadly supervillain in the universe. And, given the circumstances, it was the fact that he knew he had to accept.

"You're crazy, Pavel...I thought you were supposed to be smart." Kirk choked out, making a better effort to mask his own tears than the prodigy was. He was the captain; though he was emotionally attached to every member aboard his ship, he could not show this kind of weakness to Harewood. His eyes, though glistening, seemed to be bright with energy. He was hiding whatever he was feeling about all of this.

"I am sorry, Keptin. But it is my fault. If I had not believed I could handle negotiations I would still be with you….you would not have to make zis decision if I had not been so stupid. I was wrong to be angry with you and Mister Spock, you were only telling the truth about me. My decisions were juvenile and childish. I have to pay what I have done, Keptin. Please understand," He felt as though he was almost begging for Kirk to leave him, and no matter how strange it seemed, he knew that was exactly what he was doing. Never would he have thought there would come a day when he would want someone to abandon him, to leave him as alone as he had been abandoned when he was young. But it seemed life had come full circle, and once his family left him, it would be the end. It seemed only fitting that he should go through it alone, but that in no way meant that he had to like it.

"Yes, Captain, the child is right. You must understand," Harewood sneered, a hint of pleasure in his voice that hadn't been there previously. Chekov's breath caught as it dawned on him-he had just revealed to Thomas his greatest weakness, the underlying reason for his capture in the first place. He wanted to curse himself, punish himself in some way...although he supposed one of the worst punishments he could receive was about to come. "You must understand what it would mean for you should you refuse me. The losses on your part would be great. Of course, I will take care of your precious navigator first, but it will by no means stop there. I have the weapons here that Khan left behind, each and every one of them pointed directly at your ship this very moment. Rest assured, I would have no problem firing them once Pavel is gone, and I doubt your shields could withstand the power my weapons possess, especially since I happen to have much better aim. So think carefully, Captain Kirk. This choice can only be made once. I would hate to see such a pretty little ship like yours damaged so greatly, but I'm afraid it's out of my hands."

Pavel had never heard a larger lie in his entire life. To begin with, the planet was not armed heavily. That the ship's scanners had made certain of before they began their orbit in preparation to sending an investigative crew down. Next, the fact that Harewood would admit that this was out of his hands was baffling. Of course it was in his control, entirely so. One wrong move on either side, and a Starfleet officer was bound to be put in the line of fire. Harewood was playing God, and loving every moment of it. Their lives were in his hands, technically. He had the bargaining tools to win from any situation. Blood would be shed, whether or not he got those coordinates. Though Pavel wished there was some strategy to find himself a way out of his mess, he knew it was his duty to sacrifice himself. He could have laughed over the waste. Here he was, Starfleet boy genius, forced into giving up his life because there was no equation or philosophy for figuring your way out of a hostage situation. He couldn't put it into numbers, couldn't pull up some sort of clever analogy to trick his way into a win.

"You drive a hard bargain." Kirk narrowed his eyes, fury shining brightly in his expression. This was basically a bad deal all around. Jim Kirk had been quoted at the academy, insisting that he did not believe in no-win situations. Though that was still true, that didn't mean that he wasn't stumped every once in awhile. Every crew member was valuable to him, and he couldn't imagine entering the bridge again without his prize Russian whiz kid navigator. He knew Pavel was willing to sacrifice himself, probably thinking that it was what Kirk would do in this situation, but the kid was still young-much too young to give up a life with his entire future ahead of him.

"Keptin. Please," Pavel pleaded softly once again, hearing the desperation in his own voice. He was trying to almost stall the other man, to give someone else on the bridge time to talk him out of it, preferably Spock. The Vulcan had prevented Kirk from handing over the coordinates earlier, now all he needed to do was cast the idea from his mind entirely. Chekov knew it would not be an easy task, given the captain's fierce sense of loyalty, but he knew that Spock would be the only one who could do it, the only one who could get Kirk to see logic. It would not emotionally compromise the first officer to leave him behind, because he hated Pavel to begin with, had hated him ever since the destruction of Vulcan. Although he had never been particularly upfront about it, the boy knew this had to be the case. It was his fault Spock's mother had not made it, because it had been he who wasn't able to beam her up in time. Spock was right to hate him for that, and of course he must have seen Pavel's situation as the opportune time to make him pay for it.

Kirk was facing a large moral dilemma. In his heart of hearts, he knew that he could never steer his ship - or command Hikaru to, for that matter - and leave Chekov alone with a madman. If he didn't give Harewood the coordinates, the man would just find a way to get it himself, through torturing Starfleet members or other devious acts. War could start at any second, and it was going to be messy. If Harewood got those coordinates... Kirk began to think of the outcome. What if he gave him the coordinates to the planet that Khan was stranded on with his crew? Could he possibly get a head start on the man, beat him to the planet before any harm could be done? He let his mind wander to what admiral Pike would have told him to do. Of course, he would have told him it was a bad way to go about doing things. Yet could he condemn him for wanting to save his ensign - and, possibly... the world? He knew that even though Pike wouldn't approve, he wouldn't tell Kirk to leave a crew member behind, at the same time. With that thought in mind, and no devisable plans in existence, he stood from his chair.

"I'll give you the coordinates." He said, ignoring the shock reflected upon the bridge crew's faces. He couldn't drag it out any longer-it wasn't fair to Pavel, or to anyone else. "In return for the cessation of hostilities against our ship, and the release of our navigator, Pavel Andreivich Chekov," he began, his voice solemn as he spoke in official Starfleet terms. As per Starfleet regulations, the conversations he held with Harewood were constantly being recorded. Of course, with the block on communications, he couldn't trasmit them to the admiral. However, he did have hopes that when he sent them off to Starfleet, they would at least approve of his professionalism, if not his strategies.

"Sounds like a deal." Harewood hissed, leaning forward with a greedy look in his eyes. Jerking his head over towards Pavel, he let his gaze fall on the boy's anguished face. His mouth was screwed into a frown, nose scrunched and eyes glistening with frustration. "You might want to take this down, boy." He snarled, patting the kid's shoulder so roughly that he visibly shook with the force of it.

Glowering up at his so-called superior, the boy worked his slender fingers over the console, and Harewood turned his excited gaze towards the captain of the Enterprise. Before the man even had the numbers he was looking for, he was overly proud of himself. Jim could see it in his eyes, the success he thought that he had. Thinking about his plans to later capture the enemy was all that kept him from finding a way to reach through the screen and wipe that smug look off of Harewood's face.

"You had better copy it down to the number, ensign." Harewood instructed, glancing at Chekov's screen with a smirk. "I have a wonderful memory thanks to my Vulcan heritage. However, I would appreciate a written copy of my sucess." He grinned up at the camera, with a gaze that turned Kirk's soul cold. Suddenly he was feeling that this was a terrible idea, but he refused to back down. His heart was full of dread, the idea that he just might not win this one sinking down on him like a weight. He was standing on the top of a fence, trying to stay up, one breath away from falling towards one side or the other.

"Come on, captain, we haven't got all day." The man drawled, glancing at the Starfleet regulated watch he had strapped to his wrist. A sudden surge of anger made Kirk want to rip that thing straight off of his arm. Who was he - who had bombed an entire archives building, killing and injuring enough Starfleet officers to make it a mass homicide - to wear anything issued from his old company? It was almost sacrilegious; it made Kirk hate the man in front of him even more than he already did.

"In fact, we've really only got a few minutes left in our hour, actually." Harewood voiced, so matter of fact that he almost thought of Spock after hearing it. The man was so logical, so robotic in his ways that he could hardly believe he wasn't full Vulcan. He knew that a man like Spock wouldn't torture a man just for information that he did not have.

Jim merely glowered at him, his expression matching that of the ensign's, not wanting to give the man satisfaction in answering him. If there was one person who hated Harewood as much as the captain - if not even more - it had to be Chekov. Judging from the bruises and wounds already inflicted upon him, he had every right to. After all, the criminal had taken advantage of his weaknesses, exploited him against his own family-that wasn't something you could just forgive, even for someone as accepting as Pavel was.

"Alright, Harewood, you've made your point." He almost rolled his eyes, the contempt in his voice obvious. "We've only got a limited amount of time to beam our ensign back, as well. Believe me when I say I understand the time crunch." He narrowed his electric blue eyes, glaring holes into Harewood's. "Now which comes first, my officer or your coordinates?"

Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Harewood wasn't an imbecile enough to trust his enemy. Though Kirk would have been true to his word, down to the letter, he had to extend some sort of courtesy to this man - even if he didn't deserve it. After all, nothing would get done if they didn't trust each other enough to get to the negotiations.

"From what I have observed, you are not an idiot, Captain Kirk." Harewood mocked, the right side of his mouth lifting into a lopsided grin. "Neither am I. We handle this on my terms, and mine alone. I receive my coordinates, and then we go on our merry way."

"Yes, you receive the coordinates and send Pavel back. Then we part and never have the displeasure of seeing each other again." Kirk added, arms firmly folding against his chest. He simply wanted the whole affair to be over - the sooner he gave up the coordinates and consequently lost his position as captain, the sooner they could have Pavel with them again and the sooner they could stop Harewood from reawakening their worst nightmare. It had been a taxing few days, and all Kirk wanted to do was drop into a deep sleep for at least a week. But he couldn't rest yet, and Thomas was the reason why. It was time for the beginning of the end, and Kirk was ready.

"Precisely. You seem to be catching on, Captain," Harewood smiled, a glint in his eyes as he leaned in, impossibly close. He was literally on the edge of his seat, just waiting for his prize. He was self-satisfied, pretending to be constantly three steps ahead of the game, that Kirk wondered if perhaps his plan would fall through. Could Harewood possibly be thinking that far into the future? He was acting so conceited, his ego inflated to an impossible size, that Kirk was only a slight bit reluctant in convincing himself that this man could never see it coming, not when he was so busy rejoicing.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Kirk took a glance around the bridge before opening his mouth to speak. Spock looked astounded, and Bones seemed to be trying his hardest not to stop him. Hikaru Sulu actually seemed rather excited, as was to be expected with the imminent return of his best friend. It was enough to convince Kirk to turn back to the screen, grip the armrests of his chair, and spit out the numbers. Harewood couldn't keep Pavel away from the family he had aboard the crew, and nothing would stop Kirk from getting him back. "Twenty four, sixty, eighteen, thirty two." He forced the words through clenched teeth, watching Harewood's change in expression as he was reminded again of his win, his cheeky smile growing impossibly larger.

"Why thank you, Captain Kirk." He sounded like a gracious party host accepting a welcomed gift. It made Kirk's skin crawl to hear his saccharin tone, much too gentle for a man of his stature.

Ignoring Harewood, the captain whipped around in his chair to face his first officer, hoping the fear in his eyes wasn't too noticable. "Mister Spock, please alert Scotty of the transportation of ensign Chekov." The shaking tone of his voice was full of emotion. He couldn't keep it all at bay anymore. He was ecstatic, practically vibrating with happiness at the thought of receiving his crewmember back aboard the ship. At the same time, he was just waiting for the moment that he had to alert Starfleet, and return to the helm to go racing after the man who had ruined their lives in a matter of days.

"That won't be necessary, Captain." Jim shook himself out of his confused state of mind in time to look towards the screen, where a firm hand was clamped upon his ensign's shoulder. He was ready to leanp from his seat and snarl something about a deal when Harewood hauled the boy from his chair to stand next to him, shoulders slumped and spirit already crushed.

"We had a deal, you bastard." A roar filled his ears as anger took hold of him. If they had been talking in person, he would have had his hands around that man's throat already, or had him up against a wall, one bone or another broken. He could hear nothing but Harewood's soft chuckle of pleasure, could feel nothing but intense frustration, as their time began to slowly run out.

**Authors' Note:**

**The Mean Girls x Star Trek parody will be posted soon as a side story on my (Val's) account. I hope you enjoy our update. We're already working on the next chapter, so keep your eyes peeled. More adventures are to come...**


	14. Chapter 14 - Get Out of Here

**Authors' Note: If you did not receive notice of this already, Chapter 13 was replaced. What was once a Mean Girls parody is now an actual chapter. Please go and read that update before you read this chapter! We apologize for any inconvenience! Enjoy this update - Marcelle and I have been working hard and apologize for the wait. Balancing school, social lives, and obsession with writing fanfiction is hard work. (: **

"A deal, Captain? Who are you to lecture me on deals when you have broken so many of your own?" Harewood laughed, his snide and cool manner digging in Kirk in a way he could barely fathom. He should have known better than to trust Harewood. What about this man should have led him to believe that he would honor a deal? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yet, Jim had given him the coordinates out of the foolish assumption that Thomas would respect the agreement. And now they were practically on borrowed time, time that was slipping away with every second. It seemed that Kirk had failed today-the day where it mattered most that he succeed.

"You-" Kirk spluttered, trying to find the words to say. He was tempted to throw an arsenal of swears and curses in his direction, but kept his anger in check for the moment. Though he had assumed that Harewood would have something under his sleeve, he also made the juvenile mistake of guessing that the man would at least be somewhat rational and respect their agreement until it came time for hunting down Khan. He wanted to scream, rip his hair out, take a shuttle down to Harewood and beat him into a pulp himself. Yet he could only manage to stutter over the words he wanted so badly to say.

"We lived up to our side of the bargain. The least you could do is be honorable in return." He hissed through clenched teeth, furious gaze boring holes through the screen. He wished that looks could kill - he would have sent Harewood packing his bags and heading for hell days ago had he been in control of that sort of power.

"And where was your sense of honor when it came to our previous conflict? I seem to remember us reaching a mutual understanding. No one was to leave the bridge or contact command without my consent, and I caught you in that act as well." He shook his head with a taunting smirk, tilting to the side as if he could be more intimidating that way. "Think of it as collateral. I take your little Russian pet with me on the last part of my journey to ensure that you gave me the right coordinates. If I find anything to be displeasing, I kill him." He stated this as a fact, no amount of hesitation in his voice. Kirk knew that he was treading on thin ice; one wrong move and Pavel would be dead by morning.

"And if you find it all to your liking?" Kirks' fingers were clenched around his armrest so tightly that they turned white. He was restraining himself, replaying every and all possible plans. There were unexpected outcomes to this sudden return of hostilities, and the captain was afraid of what the brought. But in the academy they taught the need to feel fear, and he was definitely coming to that point now.

"Then I return your ensign as promised, with only a few scratches." With that, Harewood grinned maliciously, patting Pavel's arm hard enough to make him stagger forward a few steps. Only, the boy didn't make it very far before Harewood latched onto the collar of his shirt.

"You have seconds to get your hands off of him, Harewood, I'm warning you-" Voice shaking, the captain sat bolt upright, his back as straight as a board. His patience was running thin, itching to get to the controls. If he fired at that planet, he could do significant damage - to both Harewood and his own crew member. Shit - this was a losing battle and he was fighting for the side that was slowly sliding down a steep hill of problems.

"Or what, captain?" The man turned to sneer, fisting the boy's tattered gold shirt in his palm. "I hold all of the cards here. What could you possibly do to me that would bring me harm?" His eyes gleamed with sadistic joy as he raised an arm, his hand balling up in preparation. Pavel was obviously trying not to wince, staring the man's hand down as if it were the enemy itself.

"Captain-" the voice was distressed, and obviously female. Kirk turned to his right to see Lieutenant Uhura jump from her seat as quickly as though it had suddenly caught fire and burned her. She looked frightened, her brown eyes large and round. Her gaze was constantly flickering back and forth between Kirk, Spock, and Pavel, whose equally scared face was centered in perfect view on the screen. She sucked in a breath, watching as a few curls fell in front of Chekov's eyes, and her heart went out to her best friend.

"We only have minutes left, sir." She said suddenly, the anxiety in her voice obvious, she glanced down at a counter that had been set up."From what we've recorded, we've been talking for almost an hour. We need to-" she caught herself from ordering her captain around, but it seemed as though Kirk understood it anyway.

"Spock, get in touch with Scotty, see of we can beam him up from under the ground."

"Captain, I must admit that this course of action is illogical. We have never tested that theory, and to attempt it on the ensign could potentially kill him."

Yet Kirk knew that Pavel was already on the brink of death. "Figure it out - go, now, do it, do it, do it!" He commanding, voice rising in intensity, the cackling of Harewood heard from the screen in front of him.

"Time is running out commander. Perhaps you should get going." Harewood set his steely gaze on Spock, who met him with an even stare. Two half-Vulcans, attempting to intimidate each other. It was a sight for the history books. Spock did not waver under the daunting glare, but instead turned on his heel to walk briskly to the lift. Before the doors even closed, he was opening his communicator to place a call down to a undoubtedly panicked Scotty.

It was a moment of pure silence aboard the bridge, something uncommon for Kirk's crew. All eyes were locked on either the countdown or the screen, studying the shaking figure of Pavel Chekov. Harewood was toying with them now, just waiting for the opportune moment of torture. Kirk could only watch, helpless as the time began to slip away from him, slowly ticking towards the zero second mark. A page from the transportation pad made it clear that they would not be figuring out how to get Pavel back aboard the ship anytime soon. It would rearrange his molecules too much to beam him out of the planet's underground and then through the atmosphere until he got to the ship. Kirk was finding himself floundering for an option, knowing he had nothing. He could only sit and watch and everything spiraled down around him, nothing in his control anymore. If they couldn't beam him from underground, then they were left with virtually no options. This time there wasn't ship he could invade, or a warp core he could realign. James Tiberius Kirk had finally found his no-win scenario.

* * *

The first punch was a brutal blow, straight to the face. Chekov, feeling the brunt force of the attack, was sporting watering eyes and an indignant grimace almost immediately. The clock was ticking down to five seconds, enough time for the entire bridge crew to watch as Harewood began to hit him again, fury taking control. Pavel merely squirmed against him, unable to get away from the death grip he had on his shirt. The pound of Harewood's knuckles slamming into Pavel's sensitive flesh was a noise that would haunt the bridge crew for as long as they would remember it. His small gasp of air after every hit, the way his soul seemed to be slowly crushing into pieces was a sight that they found almost impossible to escape from, because it was as he was calling for their help, and they could not deliver it. Though the boy would occasionally throw his fists up to block a hit, he was not faring well whatsoever.

Hikaru barely felt himself rising from his chair, only realizing that he was standing when the screen went black and he looked around, dark eyes wide with concern. Everyone on the bridge sat with their mouths agape, mimicking the same look of confusion. Sulu had no doubt that the damage that Chekov was receiving was due to his clever trickery when it came to sending a missile towards the garbage deck. Perhaps the punishment was also a message to Jim, that Harewood was still pissed off at the way their negotiations had taken place. Jim had been foolish enough to attempt to find a way past their agreements once, and Harewood was determined to make him feel humiliated by the transgression as he kept his navigator and tortured him. The man was making a mockery out of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and obviously having as much fun as he could with it.

A frustrated growl rose at the back of his throat as he tried to keep from crying. He could already feel the tears of fury and frustration coming on. Just moments before, he had been excited to welcome his friend back aboard the ship. Now, he could only sit back and try to withhold the urge to imagine just what form of torture was being doled out against Pavel. Broken bones, bruises, burns? A broken spirit was certain. There were plenty of things that could be happening down on that planet, and no one could offer any help until Harewood and Chekov were well on their way into warping off towards the planet where Khan's cold, icy body was stored.

Turning to glance at the captain, Hikaru forced himself to stuff down all feelings of contempt. The captain had made some stupid choices when it came to dealing with Harewood, that was true, but the pilot at The captain who was supposed to be on top of things, always on the winning team, was suddenly fishing for words and lost beyond all control. He didn't have as much of a clue what to do as Hikaru did himself. It was horrible to think that it was their fault that Pavel was probably still being mercilessly beaten, that it was because of them that he was going to have scars now that would last the rest of his life, however much longer that may be.

_No. No, don't think that, don't you dare think that..._ Sulu pried himself away from the thought of a dead Pavel Chekov, his life taken from him at a mere eighteen years old. The kid had so much to live for, so much he could accomplish from that Starfleet-exceptional brain of his. He couldn't leave them yet, not when they had left him believing that they underestimated the genius he really was. Not when Hikaru had just realized how great of a friend Pavel was. Who else would stay up late to help him improve on piloting techniques? Who else would help him tend to the botanical samples he had found a few months back and was trying to cultivate? Who else would come with him on their rare shore leaves to visit his ill mother? No one but Pavel would do those things, and no would be able to take Pavel's place as Hikaru Sulu's best friend. It didn't matter that Sulu was about 7 years older, because with Chekov's intellect, it was almost as though there was no age gap at all. Hikaru always looked out for his young friend, of course, but it was rare that Pavel would need his help with anything. Reminding him to get to sleep when he got too caught up in his work or helping him study for an advanced online physics program he was taking was usually the extent of Sulu's duties, but he took pride in them. It was as though he was helping the little brother that he never had during the years of his childhood spent in a San Francisco foster home. And now even Pavel was being taken from him, from all of them. It just wasn't fair.

Hikaru could almost feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes, the salty liquid tickling his lashes. But if he had learned anything about Starfleet, it was that control over emotions can be a valuable asset, and it was only for that reason that he was able to restrain himself from sobbing. Pavel was an exceptionally strong soul, both physically and emotionally, but it seemed that he had been pushed close to his breaking point at the beginning of the latest transmission. Now, having had to fire a missile at his ship and consequently being beaten for it, Sulu wasn't sure how much more the boy could take, and it scared him to his very core. He honestly had no idea what he would do without Pavel, how he would be able to stand coming to the bridge every day only to see another golden shirt in Chekov's place, hearing another voice report, "Captain on the bridge!" Whoever it would be, they wouldn't be able to say the simple phrase the way Pavel did. There was no way they could possibly replicate the happiness and faith present in the young ensign, and he knew they had to get him back before anyone had to try.

"Captain-" he started, but was immediately cut off as Kirk turned away from him, instead facing Uhura.

"Lieutenant, contact Starfleet Headquarters as soon as we take off. Alert them of what's going on and tell them that I'm going to need to speak with the Admiral the first chance I can get," he ordered, the professionalism now present in his voice something no one could help but admire. How Kirk was able to keep his head straight in a time like this was beyond Sulu, although a part of him realized that it was probably entirely the opposite. His captain was most likely about ready to burst at the seams, the all-business manner he was showing now merely a facade to hide the truth from the rest of the crew. It was not the most healthy approach to the problem, he knew, but it seemed to be Kirk's only option at the moment. Hikaru was certain that the commanding officer was probably not giving even the slightest thought to his own health, but that of his navigator.

"Yes, sir," Uhura murmured obediently, serving in her chair to punch commands onto the screen in front of her.

"Take off?" Hikaru stood, a confused expression across his face. "We're going to leave Pavel here?" His voice was on the verge of reaching higher decibels. He'd never raised his voice at the captain, but this was getting serious. How could he even consider take off without their navigator returned safely to his ship?

"We need to get a head start." The Captain shrugged, a concentrated look upon his face as he shifted in his seat, facing the screen ahead of him. He was focused, and something told Hikaru that the man wasn't going to budge from this decision. As much as it killed him, they were going to leave without Pavel. They couldn't do anything now, with communications down for another twenty four hours or so. If Pavel was still alive and in the custody of Harewood, chances were that they wouldn't see him again until reaching the cryo-prison planet. Now that they knew that this was where Harewood was going, it was imperative that they got there first. "If we can beat him there, we might be able to stop him."

"But who knows what he's going to do to Pavel in the meantime-"

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk interrupted harshly, and the pilot snapped his mouth shut so quickly that you could hear his teeth chatter. Out of respect, Hikaru knew that he was in no place to question the captain, and stood at attention. No one would have guessed his anger had they not looked at his hands, shaking in fists at his side. It wasn't that he wanted to hit anyone in particular, per se. It was more the fact that was so frustrated that everything inside him called out for him to lash out on anything that was getting in his way.

"Either you sit down and steer us out of here now, or relieve yourself from the bridge, lieutenant." Captain Kirk said with a finality that no one in their right mind would argue with. The Captain was far past caring why any man dared question him. Right now, he was trying to coast along as best he could. He understood that Sulu was hurting, but he didn't have time for a chat about their feelings. He had to get a head start on Harewood and stop this situation from spiraling too far out of control. Already the man was two steps ahead of him, and James T. Kirk couldn't stand being behind.


End file.
